Shakarian Compendium
by nomibubs
Summary: Snippets exploring the friendship / relationship between Garrus & Shepard. Set in and around game play events from ME2 & ME3, but not a retelling of the story.
1. Archangel

Shakarian Compendium

Archangel

Garrus had killed more mercenaries than he could keep tally of over the past few hours. Male, female, human, turian, salarian, krogan, it didn't matter. So why the sight of this fully armoured, humanoid female gave him pause, he couldn't say.

This war he'd waged against the scum of Omega was swiftly coming to an end. He couldn't recall the last time he'd eaten or slept and the maddening fatigue was settling in fast. He sure as hell wasn't going down easy though.

The mercenary clans were gathering that was clear, no doubt pushing for one final assault. That he'd been able to piss them off enough for them to band together like this was impressive. His crude fortifications had held out so far, but sooner or later they were bound to get wise to the undeniable weakness of his position and simply bash their way in. Until that happened, he held this vantage point, guarding the only clear route to him that he'd shrewdly left available, the bridge. A narrow expanse littered with debris and bodies from previously failed attempts to cross. He'd been tracking a few 'sniper fodder' scouts when this woman in question had filled his scope. There were no identification marks on her armour, nothing to align her with any clan. She was just another hired gun, same as any of the others they kept pushing mercilessly over the bridge, except she wasn't. Her weapon wasn't even drawn.

_What the hell is she doing? _

Unless the mercenary recruits weren't being given the full lowdown on the situation, an entirely plausible explanation, she'd just deliberately waltzed out into death-valley. Everything about her screamed, 'shoot me, or you'll regret it', too, but his finger remained frozen on the trigger.

He followed her adjusting the magnification of his scope, feeling something akin to awe as she surveyed the building he was bunkered down in without a trace of fear, scanning the windows till she unknowingly looked straight at him. Her dark blue eyes glinted through the visor of her helmet, burning with a fiery life he could never mistake nor forget.

_It couldn't be. _

"Shepard?" he asked aloud, pulling away from the scope to blink furiously before finding her again. Memories of two years ago flooded back to him as he searched for some concrete comparison. Recalling the way she'd moved, the way she'd fought and for a morbid moment he considered the possibility that he was dead already. How else could he be seeing the ghost of the first human Spectre, his Commander; his friend? Even if by some miracle it was her, how could he be certain she was there to help him? She couldn't know who he was.

_She'd have shot you already,_ his subconscious rebuked, and though he wanted to believe it, after everything he couldn't leave it to chance. There was only one way to know for sure.

A few rapid adjustments to the rifle round and he took aim, finding her armour's shield generator on her right shoulder. Knowing it would recalibrate instantaneously he pulled the trigger, unable to stop a rebellious smile as he watched her dive for cover.

"What now?" he murmured to himself, waiting for her response, "you know you've got my attention." A few seconds passed, but there was no return fire, and no signal to the other two who were obviously with her though she'd left them back in cover.

_So Shepard,_ Garrus mused, no longer unsure. _Time to get a move on, Commander_, _you're seriously late,_ and just as if she'd heard him she re-emerged, pulling her hand cannon from her hip and laid waste to the mercenaries ahead of her position.

* * *

Shepard hadn't moved in hours. Dimly aware that her tightly folded arms ached, her own bone-deep weariness meant nothing as she watched Doctor Chakwas and her medical assistant work frantically to keep Garrus alive.

Shepard glimpsed her haunted reflection in the glass of the med-bay windows, her near crippling guilt reminding her this was a balance for survival she might have shifted in his favour had she acted when the chance presented itself. The memory of a sparking welder consumed her again briefly. It had been a fatal weapon of opportunity, something to use against the poor bastard whose job it was to fix the mercenary's gunship, but Shepard had chosen to walk away, deeming it somehow beneath her to stab anyone in the back, merc or no - now her friend had paid the price.

_Hindsight's a bitch._ _If only I'd known who Archangel really was_… though Shepard couldn't fool herself into believing she'd have acted any differently. She just wasn't 'built' that way. _Morality's a bitch, too,_ she decided, shaking her head; silently despairing. She'd never forgive herself if Garrus died.

The med-pod he lay in shielded most of his alien body from view, though she'd seen enough before the surgical screen covered him to know he was a gory mess. Shepard had found him in a broken heap after the gunship finally went down. Blood pooling beneath him, torn up so badly she'd been beyond amazed when his eyes flickered open in response to her desperate calls. She couldn't quite feel the embarrassment equated to such an unusual, emotional response yet - not after watching him splutter a reply - probably telling her to stop yelling at him - before he'd chocked on a mouthful of his own blood.

That fabled switch in her mind had activated then, the one that tuned out the panic and fear, and allowed her to think fast. Looking back, she could only recollect a blur of orders and movement. Then she was here, frozen. Fixed like a piece of the Normandy's hull plating, or a conduit cell that the world moved around and summarily ignored - till it broke down. Well, she was yet to break, and the worry that any of the crew might witness such an event was over as the mess hall now stood empty behind her, silent and dark, but for the illumination from the med-bay windows.

"Come on, Vakarian. Give me something here," she whispered, willing the plea into an order.

"Tough son of a bitch."

The unexpected comment had Shepard glancing to find Jacob beside her. She had no idea how long he'd been there. He might have materialised in that second or been with her the whole time, right then she didn't care.

"Toughest," she amended, resuming her intense vigil.

Jacob didn't say anything else, but now Shepard knew he was there it was hard to ignore him. "What is it Mr Taylor?" she asked, not looking up.

"I'm here to relieve you, Commander."

That got her attention. "Relieve me?" she snapped, though her irritation softened in the same breath. She was too tired to stay annoyed and Jacob appeared genuinely concerned. "Thank you Mr Taylor, that won't be necessary."

"I have to disagree. You need down time, Commander. You haven't eaten or slept in over twenty-six hours."

_Twenty-six hours?_ "If I needed a list of medical suggestions I'd ask Doctor Chakwas. Right now she's got more pressing concerns." Shepard gestured sharply in the direction of the on-going operation hoping Jacob would leave it there. He wasn't to be deterred.

"If you'd choose to call simple necessities 'medical suggestions', Commander-"

Shepard cut him off. "Jacob, I'm not leaving here till I know… one way or another."

The incandescent light of the med-bay filled with sudden flashes of red as the monitors on Garrus's med-pod began bleeping furiously. This was it. Everything that had held Shepard's steely resolve together began to crumble and she reached forward, pressing her hand futilely against the glass. She was going to lose him. She was going to lose Garrus, her only ray of hope in the midst of all this chaos she'd been awakened to.

Garrus's mandibles flared as he roared suddenly, the cry one of anger and pain. He started convulsing, violently lashing out as Doctor Chakwas and her assistant struggled to restrain him.

"God damn it," Shepard cursed, making a run for the med-bay door, Jacob in hot pursuit. "What happened?" she demanded, rushing to Chakwas's side and helping to pin down her delusional friend – no easy task. Turian's were by default, strong, and Garrus was no exception. He was much stronger than her even in a severely injured state. Thankfully, Jacob grabbed his other side.

"It's the adrenaline," Chakwas explained, shaken. She looked exhausted. "We need to sedate him or he'll tear through everything we've repaired."

"Do it," Shepard ordered, "we've got a hold of him." Though she concurred with the brief look of '_I'm not so sure about that'_ passing over Jacob's face. "Easy, Garrus, easy," she soothed, watching as Chakwas was handed a syringe with a needle long enough to skewer her head. She tried to hide her panic stricken awe as she watched it sink almost fully into Garrus's neck. All at once his muscles relaxed beneath her continued grip and his weight fell back onto the med-pod.

A collective sigh of relief ran through them as they listened to the monitors resume a steady rhythm again. Shepard stared breathlessly into Garrus's face realising only then that his eyes were still slightly open. "Garrus?" she whispered.

Chakwas began taking further readings. "There's no way he could be conscious after that," she claimed, though her astonishment said otherwise. "That dose would have put down an adult Elcor."

"Like I said, tough son of a bitch," Jacob added with a faint grin.

"Garrus?" Shepard repeated, unable to look away from his mangled face. She couldn't contain her smile when he responded, though it was less than a whisper. At least she wasn't shouting at him this time.

"_Where…_" was the only word she could make out, but she understood.

"You're on the new Normandy," she explained. "You're safe."

* * *

Garrus was glad when Jacob Taylor saw fit to give them a moment alone. Genuine as he seemed, he was still a Cerberus agent and Garrus wanted to know what the hell was going on.

"Cerberus, really?" he asked, turning to Shepard as the briefing room doors closed.

She didn't answer, remaining thoughtful as she stared at the holograph schematic of this new Normandy hovering above the conference table. The low light threw an array of fresh scars on her face into sharp relief. From what Dr Chakwas had been willing to tell him, Cerberus had been responsible for bringing Shepard back. They'd resurrected or 'rebuilt' her from preserved parts. He hadn't wanted to believe it at first. The circumstance was beyond surreal, and more than a little disturbing after everything he'd seen of the organisation. The end result, however, he couldn't deny, was miraculous.

"You remember the experiments we uncovered, right?" Still, she said nothing. "Toombs?" He realised this was hitting below the belt, but he had to get a response. He needed to see that same spark he'd recognised on Omega just to be sure this was the same woman he remembered.

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes fighting down whatever emotion this particular question had arisen in her.

"I know what they are, Garrus," she answered finally, "and what they've done. I don't trust them if that's what you're wondering. 'Cerberus' describes them too well, and I fully expect them to betray me at some point. I do trust you though," she added, looking up at him, "implicitly."

There was the fire.

Charming as she could be with words, she had never been one to voice an opinion needlessly, often keeping her own council. She was, however, a woman of action who led by example. A paragon of moral fibre Garrus could never hope to understand or achieve. She would never say, 'I need you', but she'd never have to, her eyes said it all, and such honesty was impossible to doubt.

"Just like old times," he said. Shepard smiled, though it was a half-hearted effort. She was clearly shattered. "You realise this plan has me walking right into hell along with you?"

"I couldn't think of better to watch my back."

"I'll make myself at home then. See if I can't be of use in the forward batteries; do something to improve your firepower."

"That'd be much appreciated," she replied. The silence that followed was a little awkward, but realising he was simply waiting on a dismissal he wouldn't receive, Garrus turned to leave. "It's good to see you," Shepard added.

"You too," he said, looking back over his shoulder at her, "though you knew that already."

"Don't die on me again," she ordered lightly, though there was an unmistakeable edge to her voice. She really meant it.

"Come on, Commander. I waited two years for you to come back from the dead. The least you can do is wait forty eight hours."

"I'm serious," she smiled.

There was a long pause before Garrus was able to say, "Me, too," the truth of the answer weighing heavily on him. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed her. "Get some sleep, Shepard. You look like I feel."


	2. Shorted Circuitry

Shakarian Compendium

Shorted Circuitry 

Citadel Space Station: 2183 - 4 weeks after Sovereign's destruction.

The Citadel was a hive of activity with major reconstruction underway. Most docking bays were functioning again, their repairs having taken priority alongside the Presidium due to badly needed supplies. The largest multi docks had been transformed into makeshift markets as well, a desperate attempt to resume the Galactic trade that was the life blood of the station.

Garrus raced through the bustling crowds of docking range C2-6 fearing the Normandy would depart before he had a chance to say goodbye. He hadn't seen Shepard in days, both of them lacking the free time to make it possible with everything they'd been tied up in since the geth attack.

He found her at the end of the dock, clambering over a mound of supply crates stacked ready for carrying aboard. She was scanning various items with her omni-tool before packing them away, never of the opinion that such menial tasks were beneath her position.

"Not trying to leave without saying goodbye are you, Shepard?" he asked.

"Garrus!" she smiled, her wide blue eyes bright and cropped red hair ruffled by the breeze. "What gave me away?"

"Possibly the ship with 'Normandy' written in big white letters down the side. You know this visor isn't just for show right?" He tapped a long finger to his eye piece. "I can actually see."

"Well, kindly _see _that stack of power-cells there?" Shepard laughed, pointing to a mound behind him. "Hand them up to me will you."

He obliged, feigning irritation though his mandibles fluttered with amusement.

"I tried to find you this morning, only to be told - yet again - that you were unavailable. You been avoiding me, Vakarian?" she joked.

"If that were the case would I be here now?" Garrus countered, passing up the first handful of cells.

She smiled again. "How've you been, you okay?"

"C-Sec asked me back," he replied, hoping this short answer would be enough for her to understand his absence.

"Didn't take them long," she responded, her eyes scanning along the organised chaos of the docking range. "I imagine they're after all the help they can get now – not surprising they want the best of the best. What did you say?"

"I haven't yet," he confessed, and concentrated on the task of passing her up supplies. When all the cells were packed and there was nothing left to distract him he sighed heavily. "What do you think I should do?" he asked, hating how desperate he sounded for this last bit of guidance.

Shepard regarded him for a moment. In the same way she used to assess countless pieces of shorted circuitry off the mako and wonder '_what the hell to do_'. Back then Garrus would have offered his assistance and she would hand them over for repairs with an apologetic look on her face, watching him work as they discussed strategy or nuances of weapon upgrades.

Eventually, Shepard heaved a sigh too and jumped down off the crates. "That's not really something I can answer is it," she said, coming to stand in front of him.

He couldn't look her in the eye – not when she was stood so close; his turian pride taking a hit on hearing the distinct note of something tired and empathetic in her answer. She'd already done so much for him. She was solely responsible for restoring something of his faith in the system, namely because she was a part of it.

"What do you want to do?" she asked.

"Hell, Shepard, if it _was_ up to me I'd be coming with you," he admitted, the simple truth bursting out of him before he could control it, "but that decision is somehow out of my hands… _again_."

He met her concerned gaze, instantly wishing he hadn't. She could read him too well and he hadn't wanted her to see the depth of his frustration - not now, not right before she was due to leave and not see him for weeks.

"It's out of mine too, you know that right?" she asked, reaching out to him but never quite touching, the caring gesture clear all the same.

"Yeah," he murmured, turning away, infuriated with himself. Shepard let her hand fall back to her side.

"Go ahead, Kaidan," she said suddenly, putting a finger to her earpiece and looking to the supply stack. "There's one last load down here; yeah I'll need a hand. Tell Joker he's clear to get the engines prepped we'll be good to go once it's aboard."

With that, Shepard moved to gather up her large pack from where she'd evidently dumped it earlier.

"This is routine," she told Garrus in passing.

He knew she knew better. Sending her away now was as much a political ploy as beneficial strategy; any other time he'd have pressed the point, but he couldn't do it today. A shameful part of him wanted to be placated.

"Sure they're sending us to the back of beyond, but we won't be gone long," she continued, noting the recruits she'd requested to help load the last of the supplies arrive. She gestured a few orders to them as the Normandy's engines began to hum with life. "We'll clean up what's left of the geth, come home, and we can catch up properly then. What do you reckon?" she asked, looking up at Garrus again, "I'm sure I owe you a drink-"

"Or two," he corrected, smiling faintly as she made to rib him with her elbow then thought better of it. He was armoured, she wasn't.

"Or three or four… I know, I know," she huffed, disgruntled, adjusting her pack on her shoulder.

Garrus chuckled. "Seriously though, I'd like that," he added.

"Then consider it a date," she said, holding out her hand to him.

He took it easily, following the human custom of giving it a firm shake.

"This isn't good bye, Garrus," she assured him, "I'll see you soon. Take care okay?"

"You too, Shepard," he replied, letting her go.

"Always do," she smiled, following the recruits aboard and offering Garrus a little parting salute as the loading bay door began to close.

* * *

Normandy SR2: 2185 – The present.

Nearly a week had passed since Omega. The time spent gathering what resources they could from the Sahrabarik and other surrounding systems, ensuring the Normandy's newest recruits had ample time to settle in as well as any turian 'vigilante', and quick-talking, consequentialist of a salarian could.

Recovery time, Archangel's reputation and a turian killing plague had rendered Garrus's assistance moot when it came to locating Mordin, though he'd been present for every mission since.

It felt good having him at her six again, offering the same level of support Shepard remembered relying on so heavily in their pursuit of Saren, and though whilst the wit, the expertise, and the forthright opinions remained the same - though the latter had grown in confidence – it was clear his time in the Terminus had changed him. He was troubled, deeply, and Shepard wanted to understand why?

They hadn't talked alone since he'd recovered. He hadn't allowed the opportunity, despite promising to tell her everything surrounding Archangel's past. When aboard the Normandy he remained entrenched in the main battery, rarely surfacing for meals; claiming to be up to his neck in calibrations.

Shepard had given him his space at first believing that this situation, working with Cerberus, warranted some time to adjust to; she certainly wasn't there yet. To her bewilderment she'd discovered that Cerberus ship operations and potential upgrades for the weapon systems were about all Garrus did find time to discuss. That was about to change.

["Shepard,"] greeted EDI as the main battery door opened.

"Where's Garrus?" Shepard asked, standing by the guard rail that cornered off the Normandy's massive guns and surveying the vaulted space.

["Mr Vakarian is currently re-calibrating the forward batteries munitions capacity and targeting systems, applying what could be considered questionable methodology regarding power syphoning from other minor systems."]

"I assume there must be an overall improvement EDI or you'd never have agreed to it."

["Power storage has been increased by 25% and overall explosive yield by a factor of 3. It is a marked improvement, Shepard."]

"Also she didn't get much say in the matter," Garrus added, sliding out from under one of the gun barrels, he sat up locking his visor back into place, "though she's been very helpful in informing me of the, how many was it… seven?" he asked, looking to EDI's holographic projection.

["I believe the last count was fifteen, Mr Vakarian."]

Garrus nodded. "I guess that shows when I stopped listening… Of the_ fifteen_ health and safety protocols I've broken since coming down here." He had the decency to look abashed despite being clearly irritated to death. "Though please EDI," he added, "it's just Garrus. 'Mr Vakarian' is my father."

["Very well, Garrus. Can I be of any further assistance?"]

Garrus opened his mouth to respond but Shepard beat him to it. "Thanks EDI, that's all for now." As EDI logged out Shepard looked down at him and frowned. "Between you and Joker it's a wonder my A.I doesn't have a complex, thankfully dry wit seems beyond her programming at present."

"When she does more than spout random calculus at me I'll behave better," Garrus promised.

"She's probably been ensuring you don't get electrocuted, you do realise there's a guard rail here for a reason?" Shepard patted the barrier to emphasize the point.

"Funnily enough I did," he snapped, sarcastically. "It's to stop imperious Commanders waltzing in and throwing themselves on a roasting hot pair of guns."

"They're not really my type, Garrus," she smiled, lightening the mood instantly.

His mandibles flexed with a grin of his own which quickly had him clasping at the bandage on the side of his face in pain. "Though it begs the question as to what is, Shepard?" he managed, looking up at her.

"How is it?" she asked, her eyes trained on his face.

"Better day by day. The itching is worse than anything else, though I'm told that just means it's healing well."

For a long moment they just stared at each other, both knowing the banter was superficial whilst greater unspoken issues lurked beneath the surface, he was waiting for her to ask, she was waiting for him to tell her, and Shepard was either out of practise when it came to turian subtlety or the tell-tale signs that used to give Garrus's feelings away no longer existed.

"Talk to me. What is it?" she asked concerned, giving up.

He shrugged. "I guess I'm still getting used to _this_," he admitted, gesturing idly in her direction, "to seeing you again, that is. It's easy to forget on the battlefield or out on missions that we haven't been here all along. You haven't changed a bit have you?"

Shepard didn't know what to say, unsure whether he was meaning to compliment or insult her. His tone was too neutral to tell.

"Come look at this," he beckoned a minute later, seemingly unfazed by her lack of response, "I think you'll appreciate it more than most."

She half smiled, remembering 'old times' as she quirked an eyebrow at him suspiciously.

"Come on, Shepard, when was the last time you dissected an internal compression coil – just for fun?"

She rolled her eyes, and climbed down into the gun space. He knew full well the answer was, 'never', though that didn't mean she wouldn't find the whole process endlessly fascinating.

The red hue of the surrounding lights threw everything into odd relief, but she managed to shimmy sideways along a girder to where Garrus was perched and sit down beside him. He gestured for her to lean back and explained where to reach in order to pull herself under the gun platform.

"You are the only one who can give the order to fire aren't you?" he asked, pulling himself in alongside her.

"God, I hope so," Shepard muttered, looking over an array of complex wiring and bolted panels, "being vaporised wasn't exactly on my 'to do' list today."

"Nor mine," Garrus agreed and began uncoupling safety seals. "I thought I'd seen every weapon in the galaxy in our fight against Saren. Mercenary work showed me otherwise, and now Cerberus rebuilds the Normandy with a few upgrades to boot. I wish we'd joined up with them sooner."

"We haven't joined Cerberus. They're funding our mission – that's all."

"Relax, Shepard, just a figure of speech. Here hold this," he gestured to the side of the panel he'd unfastened. She reached up. "Don't let it fall," he ordered lightly, moving to the opposite side, "my face is flat enough already."

Once the panel was unfastened he tapped his fist against it to loosen the seals and lifted it away revealing a glass cylinder filled with glowing coils. "I'm hardly in a position to doubt your judgment, you know," he muttered suddenly, "not after I… I got my own squad killed."

* * *

Shepard stood staring at his back as the door to the main battery closed, feeling those two years she'd lost for the very first time.

This was not the Garrus she remembered.

Their shared experience of facing Sovereign and the impending Reaper threat had seen a young, impetuous ex C-Sec officer hampered by red tape bureaucracy, learn there was more to following a code of honour than naively rushing to kill for the right reasons, _but this?_

Garrus had fought hard to make a difference the only way he felt he could and had lost everything in the attempt. Left with only himself to blame, he purged his guilt by no longer rushing to pull the trigger, but actively wanting to.

In truth, he frightened her a little. His anger and thirst for vengeance had him poised ready to fall down a path Shepard couldn't follow, though she'd be damned if she wouldn't try to pull him back from the brink. She owed him nothing less.


	3. Horizon

Shakarian Compendium

Horizon

Adrenaline surged like liquid fire through Shepard's limbs as she charged toward the Collector ship.

"EDI, keep firing!" she ordered.

The colony's laser turrets instantly fired off another round as she hefted the strange Collector weapon she'd discovered from her shoulder and took aim. The powerful particle beam that had cut through her enemies seconds earlier glanced ineffectually off the armoured hull, though smouldering shrapnel rained down from EDI's continued assault.

"Shepard!"

She ignored the shout, dropping the Collector weapon the instant the fuel cells ran dry and drew her pistol instead; wildly emptying clip after clip.

"_Shepard!"_

The frantic shout was closer this time but she still refused to acknowledge it. The damn Collector ship was moving - despite _everything_. The force of thrust its massive engines generated reducing several near buildings to rubble.

She was too close.

Her eyes widened in horror a split second before the scorching blast wave hit, and then something crashed into her like a ton of bell metal from a side she wasn't expecting. She was weightless for an instant then crushed flat into the ground the next by a mass of blue and black armour, shielding her from the flames that managed to lick round the pile of rubble they'd landed behind.

_Garrus._

He turned his armoured head slightly as the flames began to dissipate and Shepard was able to see the dark rippling outline of the Collector ship rise into Horizon's atmosphere. She yelled to the heavens in defiance at the sight, hammering her fist into the ground.

"Shepard?" Garrus asked in concern, pushing up into a crouch beside her.

"Half the colony was on there," she raged, gesturing angrily to the sky.

"I know," he soothed, infuriatingly calm. "You couldn't have done more."

She knew he was right, but it didn't change the fact that it wasn't enough. "That's small comfort to those who got taken," she muttered, covering her visored face with her hands, willing herself to calm down.

"How badly are you hurt?"

She looked up at him confused. "What?" she asked, sitting up - and promptly winced with pain.

"You took a bad hit from whatever that thing was they sent to protect the Cruiser's departure," Garrus explained, scanning her with his omni-tool.

Shepard remembered now, though she'd been too caught up in getting to the Collector ship to take more notice than recover and keep running. She could feel a deep burning sensation running down the length of her back, though some of her aches no doubt stemmed from Garrus barrelling into her; saving her life.

Her shields hadn't recovered fully when the blast wave hit. Had she remained exposed? - It didn't bear consideration.

She looked to him again, hoping the gratitude she felt was clear in her eyes.

"Your implants seem intact," he continued, "though you've got a couple of swollen spinal discs and some other minor tissue damage. Whatever it did, it fried your shield servos, and the circuits of your armour's heavy skin weave. I won't be able to administer any med gel till that's repaired. Do you think you could stand?"

"After all that," Shepard asked faintly, "you tell me?"

Garrus stood and offered her a hand up in answer.

"You're one crazy bitch, boss lady," announced Jack, jumping over the rubble to get to them. "What the hell did you think a pistol would do against _that?"_

"I'm not entirely sure I was thinking," Shepard admitted, leaning forward against the remains of a smouldering wall allowing Garrus access to the back of her suit. He set his helmet down next to her, apparently able to see better without it.

"And where'd you come from?" Jack asked him. "Last I saw you were bunkered down half way across the compound. I had no idea turian's could run that fast?" She sounded genuinely impressed – for Jack.

"Nearly wasn't fast enough," he declared simply, not looking up from his work.

Shepard closed her eyes feeling the subtle barb in his tone. He'd never openly accuse her of being an idiot, not in front of Jack at any rate, though she wouldn't have blamed him if he had. Her rash actions had nearly gotten them both killed.

* * *

Garrus watched from a distance as Shepard tried to placate Kaidan, their heartfelt reunion having taken a surprisingly sour turn the instant Kaidan had accused her of betraying the Alliance. There was a lot of gesticulation between them as Shepard attempted to convince him of the truth. A truth Kaidan was still refusing to acknowledge, too caught up in the 'Cerberus' element to see the bigger picture. And yet, it had all been so easy for Garrus to see, to believe in _her_ if nothing else - so why not Kaidan too?

"Who's the jerk?" Jack asked, lifting her chin in their direction. She was sat cross-legged on top of a massive storage crate still holding her pistol ready.

"Kaidan," Garrus answered, perceiving 'jerk' as a fair description at that moment. Shepard deserved better from those who knew her as well as they did.

"Yeah, I caught the name first time round," Jack replied testily. "I meant, 'who is he… to Shepard' - an old boyfriend or what?"

This was not a conversation Garrus wanted to be having, especially with Jack. "He was part of Shepard's old crew and the team that fought against Saren. As to any personal relationship between them," he shrugged, irritably, "I know as much as you."

"Bull-shit!" Jack swung herself off the crate and dropped down next to him. "I've known you all for five minutes and even I can see there's something there."

The way she gestured idly in their direction with the gun still in her hand made Garrus uneasy.

"Either they were _shagging_, or he wanted to be and she turned him down." For some reason that particular thought made Jack smile.

Garrus looked over at them again, watching as Shepard removed her helmet and rubbed at the back of her neck; his irritation toward Kaidan fuelled further for the fact that he hadn't been able to treat her injuries yet. She'd been drawn into all this before he'd been able to finish patching up her suit.

To say he'd never wondered about Kaidan and Shepard's close friendship would have been a lie, but it had never been something to ask her about. It just was, and had been since before Garrus had joined them. He'd never picked up on anything more, but to see the awkward familiarity between them now - with Kaidan reaching to touch the scars Garrus knew riddled Shepard's face, only to ball his hand into a fist and pull away before making contact – perhaps there was more to Jack's colourful assessment.

* * *

Garrus lifted his visor and rubbed his eyes, sure he had lines of technical data permanently burned onto his retinas. He was tired. Beyond tired in fact, but he'd been determined to get the Thanix upgrades installed. Especially after the sheer amount of credits and other resources Shepard had scoured the Terminus to acquire, pooling them into the project – not to mention the new found urgency he felt having met the Collectors face to face.

If he'd thought their chances were slim before, even with the Cerberus upgrades to the Normandy's old system, they were non-existent now. They'd barely scratched the surface of the Collector ship with the colony's Guardian laser turrets; defensive weaponry Garrus knew would have given turian military frigates pause.

He looked back to the console, tapping through a few more alterations before heaving a sigh and giving up. The screen was really nothing more than a blur. He needed a break.

It was later than he'd expected as he palmed the door release and wearily stepped out of the main battery. The crew deck was almost completely dark but for the low level ambient lights glimmering around the edges of the space. Even the med bay was powered down. An unusual sight in itself given Dr Chakwas rarely left it unmanned.

He ventured over to the galley not really feeling up to the dextro ration supplements Rupert had kindly pulled together for him. The Mess Sergeant had hoped to make Garrus's daily meals a little more interesting – without killing him of course - a nigh on impossible task given dextro rations were simply foul to begin with.

In the end Garrus settled on a drink. It looked appealing as a quagmire once made up, but he hoped it would provide enough of a pick me up, along with all the other 'designed essentials', for him to finish his calibrations.

He grimaced at the texture as he took a sip, and was just making his way back when he realised he wasn't alone. Someone was hunched over the mess hall table no more than a dark form in the low light. It was testimony to his tiredness that he hadn't noticed them sooner.

Bent on ushering whoever it was to their respective bunk, he made his way forward. It was only as he came within feet of the sleeping form that he realised it was Shepard. She wasn't in her usual, fairly formal attire - something he was sure she wore for appearances sake rather than as a matter of choice – that's why he hadn't recognised her at first.

Her more casual appearance didn't explain why she was here though. Garrus would have thought it more likely for her to have fallen asleep at the desk in her quarters than in the middle of the mess hall. He then noticed the half-drunk mug of what smelt like cocoa beside her and the small pile of data pads littering the table, a few providing a very uncomfortable looking pillow for her head.

Garrus reached out, turning a free one round so as to view it more easily. It flickered to life the instant he touched it, revealing detailed information on the Lazarus project. He quickly turned his attention to a different pad, his intention not to pry but to understand. The next was little better. A news article from two years earlier all about the memorial service that was held in honour of the service men and women who had died when the Normandy SR1 was destroyed. He could remember that day with perfect clarity without reading the details. It had been the first of many forming the downward spiral that had led him to Omega.

The rest of the data pads he could make out were in a similar vein. It was recent history, political and personal, all in all making for poor bedtime reading.

"Shepard?" he said softly, leaning toward her.

She stirred, mumbling something that was frankly beyond his sub-dermal implants. Rubbing at the angular creases the now glowing data pads had gifted her face she blinked and looked around, registering where she was.

"Oh," she muttered sleepily, and then glanced up at Garrus. _"Oh,"_ she repeated her expression almost comical. She rubbed at her eyes profusely before squinting at him as if checking he wasn't some figment of her imagination.

"Garrus," she greeted, deciding he wasn't. She forced herself to sit up straighter, focusing on the drink in his hand. "That's not for me is it?" she asked, warily.

"No," he assured, unable to hold back a smile.

"Good," she replied, genuinely relieved and looked up at him again. "You okay?"

"I was going to ask you that."

"Me? Why?"

"Well, out of the two of us I'm not the one making a nest of data pads on the mess table," Garrus explained.

"Oh, this?" she gestured to the pile as if it were nothing unusual. "It's just a bit of—"

"Light reading?" he suggested, dryly.

"I guess you already know differently, huh?"

"I wasn't meaning to pry," he promised.

"I'm sure you weren't," acknowledged Shepard, offering him a small, knowing smile. "It seems you can take the man out of C-Sec, but you can't take C-Sec out of the man."

Garrus shrugged, unsure how to respond. It wasn't a fact he could refute so he settled for taking a seat next to her. "So what is this?" he asked, scanning over the gathered data.

She followed his line of sight and sighed. "This is – _was_ - me trying to fathom where I stand; ascertain what I've missed. The Illusive Man was right, things have changed so much."

"Two years is a long time."

"It really is," she agreed, faintly. "It's been dawning on me for a while, but I think Kaidan really made it hit home."

"He wasn't right you know," Garrus assured, fighting the sudden urge to put his arm round her in comfort.

"He wasn't wrong either," she murmured.

"So you're defending him?" he asked, bemused.

"It's no more or less than he'll be doing for me with Alliance Command right now."

_I wouldn't count on it, Shepard,_ Garrus thought, but managed to keep from saying so aloud.

"The circumstance lends itself to a certain level of judgment, but you were right," she said. "There's a bigger picture here and they're missing it. What's concerning me most is that they appear to be doing so by choice. It doesn't leave me with a whole lot of options does it?"

Shepard turned to look at him, an unspoken plea for help lingering behind her tired eyes. "Have I told you how glad I am you're here?" she asked, forcing herself to smile once more.

"Not today," Garrus jested, and she smiled in earnest.

"And yet today, I'm more grateful than I've ever been. Though the next time I do something ridiculous requiring you to endanger your life to save me – feel free not to, okay? However thankful I am that you did."

"I'll try and bare that in mind," he replied with a chuckle, "though this 'into hell' partnership we've struck sort of requires me to keep you alive… and vice versa."

"I'll do my best," Shepard promised, meaningfully, "but… thank you."

"Anytime," he affirmed, starting to feel far too comfortable under her prolonged gaze.

"I should really go to bed," she confessed, suddenly looking away and standing into a stretch.

"I am sorry how things turned out with Kaidan," Garrus offered, helping her gather up the data pads. "It must be more difficult given the close nature of your… history."

"Yeah," she mused, somehow managing to pick up the remains of her drink as well and carry it over to the sink, "but my friendship with Kaidan has never been easy. Why should I expect it to be any simpler now?"

When Garrus couldn't think of a decent reply, Shepard smiled empathetically. The point being there was no easy answer. There never was.

"Goodnight, Garrus," she said, and headed for the elevator.


	4. Here if you need me (Part 1)

Shakarian Compendium

Here if you need me (Part 1)

Shepard's armoured fingers clamped hard around the jaws of the snarling Varren that had her pinned. The clever bastard had somehow avoided her initial biotic assault that obliterated many of the pack, and jumped her before she'd had a chance to recover her strength.

Its gaping mouth of jagged teeth scratched the surface of her gauntlets as it fought savagely against her grip. The sheer weight of it pounding down was enough to steal her breath.

"Er, a little help!" she managed to grind out over the com.

A second later and the Varren's head exploded sideways in a strangely colourful array of bone and brain matter. A sight Shepard was sorely grateful her visor was down for. The single high impact shot was enough to throw the Varren's dead weight off her and she struggled to her feet, looking up to where she knew Garrus was bunkered down hawk eyeing the battlefield from above. He was already scoping out another target on the horizon.

"Thanks," she said, and began reloading her shotgun.

["Anytime,"] he replied, not missing a beat as he fired off one final round that saw the last of the Varren neutralised. ["Though next time I vote we buy a few lap dances instead."]

"_Next time?_" Shepard asked, "How many adolescent krogan do we know?"

With a roar of delight Grunt joined her in the centre of the columned platform, caked in Varren '_juice_' and practically buzzing. "I'm ready when you are Shepard," he said, "hit the Keystone and let's see if the next round is worthy of our blood!"

Shepard felt her neck twinge uncomfortably as she scowled up at Garrus, sure she could hear him sniggering to himself having listened in over her still open com.

"Next time," she said, conceding the point, and marched over to summon another bout.

* * *

"What on earth…" gasped Dr Chakwas, wide eyed at the sight of them staggering into the med bay. "I thought you'd gone down there to seek medical advice not start a war."

"Turns out that's not far from the best medicine for a krogan," explained Shepard, pulling away from Garrus's support to sit down on the nearest chair with a contented sigh. Grunt chuckled wickedly, still grinning from ear to ear – in a very literal sense, though he'd been undoubtedly hurt in the escapade. Being swallowed whole by a Thresher Maw had left its mark and was ranked up there on Shepard's mental list as one of the stupidest, most awe inspiring stunts she'd ever witnessed.

She did feel marginally to blame. She had ordered him to hold fire till he could see down the bastard thing's throat. In hindsight - not the best turn of phrase. Thankfully the insane tactic had paid off.

"And you?" Chakwas asked, looking up at Garrus with narrowed eyes. "Haven't I had to put you back together once already?"

He lifted his hands placating, feigning innocence. "Me? I just sat back and watched the whole thing."

For some reason this remark was enough to send the three of them into hysterics as Chakwas looked on, clearly of the opinion they'd gone insane, which possibly wasn't far from the truth.

It had been the briefest glimpse into Shepard's own personal hell when that Thresher Maw had appeared, but she'd been too hyped up on adrenaline from countless waves of enemies summoned in the Rite to succumb to the mind numbing fear that would have once consumed her.

Laughter was the release now and she rolled with it willingly, especially when faced with an alternative of incoherent sobbing.

As the laughter died away and Chakwas began treating Grunt's many injuries, Garrus pulled up a stool to sit directly in front of her. "How's your neck?" he asked.

"It's fine," she lied.

"Shepard, you head-butted a krogan."

"A fact I am well aware of." _How could I forget?_ she thought.

"Well are you aware your neck should be broken as a result. It clearly isn't but it must be hurting like hell." She didn't reply and he took her silence as confirmation. "Your species wasn't really designed for such tactics you know."

She arched an eyebrow at him sceptically. "The idiot was annoying me, plus it's worked fine before."

"Against other humans maybe, but even I'd think twice before head-butting a krogan and I'm reinforced," Garrus explained, rapping his knuckles against the hard carapace of his forehead. "Here," he reached round to feel at the back of her neck, gently tipping Shepard's head forward and pulling her hair aside to allow him better access.

It was times like this - as his skilled fingers began to assess the damage - that she realised how completely she'd forgotten his medical training, his knowledge in certain areas evidently surpassing simple first aid. She certainly couldn't deny the careful manipulation felt wonderful… perhaps a little too much so.

Instantly uncomfortable she pulled away, flinching with pain.

"Sorry," Garrus apologised, believing he'd hurt her.

Shepard tried not to blush, nervously rubbing at the back of her neck – _not nearly as pleasurable,_ she noted before muttering, "It's alright. It's just sore."

"That I can well believe, something doesn't feel quite right, but…" he shrugged, and then his mandibles twitched as he smiled. "You do realise you just shot the guy in the end anyway."

"I didn't know the opportunity would present itself till it did," she replied defensively. Garrus rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated with her methods, but before the continually tricky subject of, '_why not shoot first, ask questions later?_' could take a more serious turn Shepard diverted the conversation altogether.

"So, how come you know so much about human anatomy and first aid? I never asked before."

"First aid was standard as part of both Turian Military and C-Sec training."

"But how come you can put your hand on my neck and tell me 'something's not right'?"

For a moment he looked almost sheepish, which only piqued her interest further.

"We did pretty extensive studies of all the Council races and the others pertaining to them at school, and then again through our military service," he explained, thinking over his words carefully. "Humans were among the most detailed, probably following the events of the Relay 314 Incident."

"Ah," Shepard acknowledged, catching on to the reason for his disquiet. "You're taught the best ways to take us out, hmm?"

He grimaced, staring down at the floor between them. "Something like that," he confessed, glancing up at her again, "though it was never structured in that way you understand. The lessons weren't called, 'How to kill a human in ten easy steps' or anything."

"No, I imagine because two or three steps about covered it," she smiled, having no reason to be offended or annoyed. After all it wasn't as if she hadn't received similar training from the other side.

Garrus grinned, nefariously. "Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" he asked, chuckling as Shepard swatted the front of his armoured chest with the back of her hand.


	5. Here if you need me (Part 2)

Shakarian Compendium

Here if you need me (Part 2)

"Garrus, I've got something new for you to try," Rupert declared.

_Spirits, another one? _Garrus fretted inwardly. He still hadn't found the heart to tell Mess Sergeant Gardner not to bother with the dextro ration experimentations anymore and couldn't bring himself to say anything now as he seemed too proud of his efforts.

Garrus had to admit that the standard bowl of goo looked more palatable than usual as he was handed his serving. "Is that actual… meat?" he asked, noting the solid chunks and hoping the need to clarify wasn't too offensive.

"Sure is," Rupert replied with a delighted grin, "seems the Commander was able to lay her hands on some decent dextro based ingredients on Illium."

"Seriously?"

Rupert nodded. "Was the darnedest thing I ever saw, all blue and noduled. Looked fit to crawl right off the counter till I was informed it was missing any and all limbs to make that possible. Targeb I think they called it."

Garrus looked down at the bowl of what was now recognisable as a kind of 'meat stew' in his hands, trying to fathom at what point Shepard had, had the opportunity to do this for him. As far as he remembered he'd been with her both times on Illium and between seeing Liara, recruiting Thane – not to mention all the extra things Shepard always found to do – there certainly hadn't been time to shop for groceries.

"So what the hell is a targeb anyway?" Rupert asked, breaking Garrus's train of thought.

"I guess the best Earth equivalent would be a cow," he explained, still quietly stunned. "I… thank you for this," he managed finally.

"Christ, don't thank me yet," Rupert said, waving him away, clearly uncomfortable dealing with gratitude. "At least try it first and make sure it doesn't…"

"Kill me?" Garrus suggested lightly.

"Well I sure wouldn't eat it, but I was gonna say 'give you the shits' or something."

_Great, _Garrus thought, _that coming from the man who not only prepares the meals but fixes the plumbing too._ With a parting nod of thanks he headed for the mess table and tried to remember that thirty seconds earlier he'd actually felt like eating.

* * *

Garrus rolled his shoulders and neck as he strolled into the lift. A last ditch attempt to relieve the tension knotted there before heading to bed.

For the last hour he'd been caught up on the CIC, his fruitless search for Shepard landing him in lengthy talks with Joker about the good old days and strangely with Yeoman Chambers – or 'Kelly' as she preferred - who seemed a little too forthcoming with her very psychoanalytical, though be it, astute views on anyone Garrus dared ask about. It made him slightly nervous to consider what she'd potentially been saying to Shepard about him when he wasn't around, though he doubted Shepard would be of a mind to enquire. Idle gossiping certainly wasn't her style.

He'd done his best to ignore the many side long glances and nervous mutterings he still received from Cerberus crewmembers unable to get used to aliens being on board the Normandy. He knew some of it was down to his historical friendship with Shepard and the 'integral' role he'd played in the fight against Saren – or so Shepard called it. Of course some of it was simply down to the fact that he didn't keep himself confined to his designated space as the other 'aliens' did, and Shepard's self-admitted reliance on him successfully added an extra layer of drama to an already unusual circumstance. How humans loved to speculate the ridiculous.

Raucous laughter was the first thing Garrus heard as he exited the elevator on to the crew deck. To his surprise on rounding the corner he realised the noise stemmed not from the mess hall as he'd expected, which stood strangely empty, but from the med-bay instead.

He ventured over peering discreetly through the med-bay windows to find Shepard with Dr Chakwas. They were sat opposite one another though both so drunk and slumped so far down in their respective chairs that it could hardly be classed as sitting. They took it in turns to find something to toast to before downing their drinks, then one of them would somehow manage the co-ordination necessary to grasp the bottle of what looked like Serrice Ice Brandy off the counter beside them and refill their glasses.

"So perhaps it's this ship, perhaps it's Joker, or maybe it's you Commander," Chakwas announced dramatically.

Shepard nodded, the action so exaggerated it clearly made her dizzy. She attempted to rest her head in her hand, but her elbow missed the chair arm and she nearly flopped out of the seat altogether.

Garrus couldn't stifle a laugh at the sight.

"Or maybe…" Chakwas continued, raising her hand as if she'd just had the most amazing epiphany, "just maybe, I'm happily drunk." She grinned.

"And there's our toast!" Shepard announced finding her feet and lifting her glass. Chakwas joined her, swaying slightly. "Here's to being simply, happily, drunk." They merrily clacked their glasses together and drank the contents. Seconds later Chakwas collapsed in a heap.

It took Shepard a minute to realise her drinking partner was no longer with her but 'happily' passed out on the floor. By a minor miracle given her own condition, Garrus watched her heave Chakwas upright again and after a moment of indecision, shuffle her over toward one of the med-pods to sleep it off.

_At least she's where she needs to be in an emergency,_ Garrus mused, watching as Shepard then staggered toward the med-bay doors, still having no idea he was there to have witnessed anything.

She fell through them as they opened, catching herself against the wall. Grimacing whilst clutching her head to steady the spinning Garrus was sure stumbling had induced.

He couldn't resist it.

"Good evening," he said, fighting to keep his face straight as he watched the horror at being caught or seen in such a state register with her. Mortified, she peaked at him through a gap in her fingers before taking a deep cleansing breath and letting her hand fall away.

"G-good evening," she stammered, somehow losing her balance despite standing still.

"You alright?" he asked, unable to keep the sarcastic mirth from his voice. "Can you find the lift okay?"

The stern pout she afforded him as she began to make her way forward again was priceless.

"I'm sure I'll find it… _eventually_. What are you doing up anyway?" she asked grumpily.

"Looking for you," he answered. She paused, guiltily glancing back at him. "It's nothing that can't keep till morning though, Shepard. It seems we've just crossed paths somewhere without realising."

"And you missed all the fun," she commented, biting her lower lip in concern.

Garrus couldn't help grinning; ignoring the shooting pain that still plagued the muscles on the right side of his face whenever he did. "Not all of it," he assured.


	6. Loyalty to You

Shakarian Compendium

Loyalty to You

Shepard flexed her fingers nervously around the controls of the shuttle. She'd never felt such sickening trepidation before in her life, and though she didn't doubt her actions, it didn't stop the anxiety clawing at her insides over the confrontation she was sure would follow as a result.

As she set the shuttle down her concerns were verified. Garrus marched over rifle in hand, the harsh manner of his usually graceful gait the only give away – to anyone who knew him - that something was very wrong.

"Would wish you luck in light of on-going events," chimed Mordin from the back seat, "but doubt you'll need it."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Shepard replied, powering the engines down and punching in the door release.

Garrus's expression remained neutral as she climbed out to meet him, but he couldn't hide the turmoil of emotions burning behind his bright blue eyes. He blinked too rapidly, an old tell she recognised that had once signalled his brimming anger. Then he spoke, his flanged voice discordant and clipped.

"I know _you_ probably want to talk about this. Suffice it to say, I don't."

He refused to look at her, choosing to glare into the distance over her shoulder instead. A part of her was grateful. His tone echoed with layers of hurt and betrayal. He hated her at that moment and such knowledge was not something she could face.

"Alright," she conceded - not having the faintest idea what else she could say.

He shifted his weight uneasily for a second, perhaps thrown by how easily she'd complied, but before she had time to reconsider he moved passed her without another word and climbed into the shuttle.

* * *

Shepard stood staring at the main battery door, one hand frozen half way toward palming the release, the other clutching a data pad with a message she had promised herself she would never reveal. Coward that she was, she let her outstretched hand fall back to her side - _again_.

It had been two days since she had foiled Garrus's plans for revenge. Two days in which she hadn't seen him at all. If not for Kelly's information she might have believed he'd abandoned the new Normandy altogether, but apparently Yeoman Chambers' 'interested' concerns had brought her to check on him only a few hours ago.

Something about that grated on Shepard's nerves - not that she'd said as much to Kelly. It was technically part of her duties to enquire. The idea that Garrus might have been more willing to talk things through with someone else though…?

Her frustration was piqued again and before she had chance to back down she hammered the side of her fist against the door release.

"Garrus, have you got a minute?"

He didn't look up from his work station, clearly unconcerned that she had – in her mind - 'finally' found the courage to come see him. "Can it wait? I'm in the middle of something."

"More calibrations?" she asked, trying to sound light-hearted. He huffed, indignant. "Look, it could wait, but I don't think it should," she added, coming to stand beside him.

He typed out a few more sequences on the console before sighing irritably and looking skyward as if praying to the _Spirits_ to give him strength. Then he glared down at her and for the briefest of seconds Shepard felt a twinge of fear ripple down her spine. He couldn't have looked more… turian, and though it was a stupidly obvious thing to note given he was, she had to admit that when it came to Garrus his species had never been her first consideration – not until that very moment.

It was all too easy to empathise with the feared historical references of his predator race, with their sharp, angular features and gleaming eyes, particularly as his bored into hers so menacingly.

"What is it?" he asked shortly.

Her fear was instantly dispelled by his attitude.

_Damn it, she wasn't EDI spouting random calculus at him._ "Walk with me," she demanded, and turned for the door, quite ready to pull rank if she had to. Thankfully – _for his sake_ – it wasn't.

* * *

The lift door opened onto a near dark shuttle bay. A haze of light filtered down from the cargo windows above giving a ghostly hue the metallic structure of the space. The air was humming with the electric whir of the many cooling fans lining the middle of the hold; systematically releasing clouds of steam into vents high above.

Shepard marched ahead, eager to be away from the awkward physicality of the silence that had claimed them on the ride down.

"God, I miss the Alliance," she commented, activating the bay's main lights at the near console. Instantly massive areas were illuminated showing how barren the place truly was. A handful of supplies were stacked against random areas of wall whilst the new Normandy's one and only shuttle was suspended in the far corner awaiting the next mission. That was it. "This space should be occupied with training and weapons detail and—"

"Turian's crawling under mako's?" Garrus cut in, coming to stand a short distance behind her.

Shepard smiled, not looking up from the workstation as she continued to power up a few more systems. "You kept it running like a dream," she said.

"I had to. Every time you brought it back there was a fresh dent or blown circuit boards, but I don't think you brought me all the way down here in the name of nostalgia."

Normally such a jibe would have earned him a look, but now wasn't the time she had a purpose in this. "You're right," she said, thinking over her next words carefully. "I wanted to talk… and spar a little if you're game?"

"You're kidding?" Garrus barked in disbelief.

Shepard ignored his evident incredulity and made her way round to the left of the bay where a large, clear floor space was available. A part of her knew he'd follow without further encouragement. Whatever misgivings he had he was a curious soul and she could just imagine how much he'd been itching for a decent brawl. Turians were more highly strung than humans in that regard, and for human militants it was bad enough.

Garrus rarely saw hand to hand combat on missions anymore, always forced to watch her back from a pre-designated distance whilst she had all the 'fun' barrelling her way through swathes of enemies with her biotics and M-22 Eviscerator.

"I'm familiar with the Turian Military's encouragement of full contact sparring on long deployments, Garrus," she said, turning to face him. "It's regularly used as a means of the recruits blowing off steam."

"This isn't the Turian Military, Shepard, and sparring was always monitored."

"You worried I'll cheat?" she asked, her expression both cheeky and suggesting this was a wise concern. He just shook his head disparagingly. "Look, after everything that's happened I think we need to clear the air," she added.

"A concussion doesn't really lend itself to 'clearing the air'", Garrus rebuked.

"You giving up already?"

"It wasn't _my_ impending concussion I was referring to," he clarified.

She arched an eyebrow at that, nothing more. His desire for a 'workout' was slowly winning out over his trepidations regardless. He seemed incapable of standing still as he considered the options, running an armoured hand over his face and horn-crest distractedly.

"You sure you want to do this?" he asked uncertain, but incapable of not throwing down the gauntlet in the same breath. "I was ranked top hand-to-hand specialist in my unit."

"Same here," Shepard replied, peeling off her hoody and tossing it aside. "How about not flapping your mandibles over how good you were though and showing me how good you are?" She started to work through her familiar stretches, smiling as she goaded him further. "I actually can't remember the last time I saw you get into close combat, Garrus. Do you think you can remember what to do?"

"Just because your memory's rubbish Shepard, doesn't mean mine is." He looked her over for a second, taking in her minimal apparel of a black vest and combats. She was bouncing now, trying to acclimatise herself to how much cooler it was in the bay than elsewhere on board. "To be fair, I assume you want me to remove the armour?" He gestured to himself as he asked.

"Up to you," she said, resting her hands on her hips and appraising him in turn.

"Well, we wouldn't want you to hurt yourself now would we? Considering how fragile you humans can be," he said.

"It wouldn't hurt your chances either," Shepard retorted. "Right now you're just a big tin can waiting to be pushed over."

Clearly Garrus was considering some further remark, but thought better of it and began shirking his armour, setting it to one side with care.

"Just to be clear," he said a short while later, now stripped down to his under suit, "full contact?"

She nodded, not feeling half as confident as she made herself out to be. "Agreed."

Shepard had little time to register her growing anxiety before Garrus lunged into attack. He was much faster than she'd expected and it took all her agility to avoid his initial strike only to find her legs taken out from under her by his second. She managed to counter – _just _- tangling her legs up with his as she fell bringing him down with her. He was quicker to recover though given he had a more positive position and despite deflecting one pin, he got a proper grip on her almost instantly forcing her down into a yield.

"Yeah, this isn't going to end well," he muttered, holding her firmly in place.

"Just testing that fabled turian reach," Shepard assuaged, "and besides, I'm only just getting started."

She bucked underneath him, hard enough to throw his balance to one side and pummelled her knees into his back for good measure. His carapace was like impacting on stone and her knees throbbed in protest as she found her feet again. Garrus rolled into a crouch regarding her intently.

_So, he's fast, agile and strong,_ Shepard mused inwardly, readying herself again. _Thank God he's my friend._

The fight continued at pace with Shepard's close combat skills sorely tested. _Keep back, keep back… stay out of reach. Move, move, move!_ she shouted to herself inwardly. Taking what few chances she dared to get in close and take him down. Twenty minutes later they were tied for yields.

Beads of sweat ran down Shepard's temples and spine yet there was no outward sign of exhaustion to be found in Garrus. If anything he took a little longer to choose his method of attack, but that was it.

"So, you ready to talk?" she asked with a grimace, deflecting a blow and forcing Garrus back a step or two to avoid her counter punch.

"If I say 'no' what do you plan to do, beat me senseless?" he asked. "We both know that's not your style."

_His voice sounds spent at least,_ she thought. "You're right, but even I'm getting tired of the pity parade."

"_Pity parade?_" he spat, losing focus on his next move and leaving himself open.

Shepard took the opportunity, quickly wrapping her foot round behind him and throwing her shoulder into his middle. The fight stopped abruptly as Garrus was left to stare up at her unable to comprehend how he was suddenly on the floor.

"When I start attaining Kelly's level of empathy I have to draw the line," she said breathlessly, standing over him, "I'm fed up of wanting to hug you every time I see you."

Garrus pushed her back so he could get up. "What do you want me to say, Shepard?" he asked. "That I'm glad I didn't kill Sidonis? – I'm not. The fact that I couldn't in the end is a failing I'll have to live with the rest of my life."

"You consider mercy a failing!?"

"No… but doling it out to scum like that is."

"He _was_ your friend," Shepard said.

Garrus growled, his eyes simmering with anger. "He betrayed me."

"He got backed into a corner and cracked. Not everyone has it in them to lay down their own life."

Garrus couldn't have been more disgusted as he peered at her. With a shake of the head he turned to walk away.

"If you've got something to say Garrus, now's the time," Shepard snapped after him.

He took a couple of extra paces before rounding on her. "I think your morals are naïve. I think _you're_ naïve." He advanced with every word till towering over her again. "You set a standard that the real world doesn't understand or adhere to and yet somehow expect _me _to live up to it?"

"So you feel you've fallen short of my 'supposed' expectations?" she asked, irritated and hurt, but keen to understand.

He shook his head, lifting his hands in exasperation. "Why are you so determined to protect them, even Harkin? So what he's been taken in to custody by C-Sec that's the least that bastard deserves."

"You think I give a damn about them?" she asked, her voice rising in volume to match his. "I wasn't protecting Harkin or Sidonis, I was protecting _you_."

"I didn't ask for your protection," he cried.

"No, you asked me to help you _murder_ someone," she raged back. Garrus's eyes widened at her choice of words and she took a moment to collect herself - not having meant to lose her temper. "My loyalty has and always will be, to you. The man I know you are. The man your squad died believing in."

"You don't know a thing about it," he snarled under his breath.

"The morals we endeavour to maintain are what separate us from the ones we fight, Garrus," she added. "We forget that and we become _them_. Killing Sidonis was that line; I couldn't let you cross it."

"My men deserved better, Shepard. They deserved justice."

"There is no justice in vengeance!" she said, straining against the want to yell or grab him and shake him viciously. "It might feel like it at first, but that same shred of doubt that allowed you to spare him would have crept back over time, except by then it would have been too late."

Garrus turned away from her, trembling with supressed rage. "You don't know that," he replied, his flanged voice wavering.

"I know it's a hell of a thing to kill a man, it's another to kill a friend, even one who's betrayed you just to ease your own guilt."

He balled his hands into fists, clenching them tighter and tighter till finally he exploded with a roar so utterly animalistic that Shepard was forced to take a step back; experiencing the same thrill of fear that she had before. He crushed his hands to his face for a second then marched away over to where the supply crates were stacked. Shepard wouldn't have been surprised had he just rampaged his way through them, but instead he just grasped the edge of the nearest one for support and bowed his head, desperate to find some measure of control.

Minutes passed and neither of them moved. Finally, Shepard relented and reached for her hoody, pulling out the data pad with the message she had planned to share with him originally.

"'_Commander Shepard,'" _she began to read aloud.

"'_My husband was one of the men serving on Garrus's team. I don't know how much Garrus talked to you about what happened. I don't know the specifics myself, only that my husband died in a trap set by those bastard gangs. I know Garrus blames himself; he took every shot fired at his squad as a failure on his part, and it was clear when he sent me the message about my husband that he thinks it was his fault._

_My husband would never have wanted that. He was proud of the work he did on Garrus's squad. He was taking back Omega from the gangs. He died fighting with honour. I miss him. God, I'd give anything to get him back. But whatever happened there wasn't Garrus's fault.'"_

Shepard was stood beside him now, watching his turian profile as he closed his eyes in anguish. It was evident he knew who the message was from. "She asked me not to tell you that she'd sent this, just to look out for you, help you stop blaming yourself, but I think you needed to hear it."

"It _was_ my fault, Shepard," Garrus muttered, offering her a quick glance. "I sealed their fates long before Sidonis betrayed me." He sighed heavily. "You know from what I've said before that our work had earned us a good reputation and a lot of credits." Shepard nodded in answer. "Some of them had wanted to leave; settle down. I convinced them otherwise, convinced them that we were too close to ridding Omega of organised crime to stop. I should have just let them go… _why didn't I just let them go?_" he asked desolately.

"Garrus," Shepard said, softly, placing a hand on his shoulder in comfort. "I could tell you it wasn't your fault, but I know from my own experience it wouldn't mean very much. It never helped me to hear it."

He looked down at her seeming more tired and care worn than she'd ever known him to be before.

"As leaders we bear the consequence of our actions and choices every waking moment of our lives. It's just the way we are," she continued. "What I can tell you, from what I've seen and heard, is that, had any of your squad chosen to walk away you would have let them. They believed in you though, believed in what you were trying to accomplish. You need to remember that and respect their choices as they damn well thought the cause was worth it."

"Guess it shows what I know," he said at length, staring blankly into space.

Shepard increased the pressure on his shoulder and he met her gaze again. "Give it time," she said, offering him a small smile of encouragement.

The following silence was spilt by a sudden loud pounding coming from the cargo window above. They both glanced up to see Grunt pressed against the glass.

"You two call that a fight?" he shouted, "Looked more like varren trying to mate to me!"

"You know, not everyone on this ship is suffering from rushing hormones, Grunt," Shepard shouted back, unable to contain a chuckle as she observed the 'perfect' krogan grin mischievously before disappearing out of sight.

"Is that glass bullet proof?" Garrus asked in an aside, still glowering.

"No shooting," she ordered. "Go head-butt him if you must. You're 'reinforced' after all." A fact she knew all too well now. She was really starting to feel their sparring efforts. Everything was aching.

He waved off the suggestion. "I think I'll defer krogan hand-to-hand to the experts," he said sarcastically, gesturing in her direction.

"If I could move, Garrus," she challenged, stretching her back and feeling something crunch.

"You and me, both," he replied, wearily. "There's got to be an easier way to blow off steam."

"Course there is I just haven't thought of it yet."

"Don't humans have other methods?" he asked.

Shepard thought about it for a moment before laughing. "There's sex I guess," she said with a half shrug.

"Ah," Garrus mused, a little too knowingly, "that normally follows the sparring, _if_ you're so inclined."

Shepard laughed again. "You asking me or speaking from experience?"

His mandibles twitched with amusement, "Maybe. You?" he asked.

"Maybe," she answered smoothly, smiling up at him.


	7. Here if you need me (Part 3)

Shakarian Compendium

Here if you need me (Part 3)

Garrus absently flicked through the data on the screen not taking in any of the information displayed as his eyes kept drifting toward the lift. He still couldn't believe Shepard had agreed to Samara's plan. The very notion of her facing down a powerful biotic unarmed and alone was bad enough, but an Ardat-Yakshi? Even before she got to the 'face down' part she had to draw the proven psychotic killer out first. This wasn't simply a bad idea – it beggared belief.

He wasn't left with fractious thoughts for long as only a short while later Shepard emerged looking very… _different. _It was a pathetic term to use he knew, buthis range of complimentary descriptions for humanoid females simply wasn't extensive enough to cover the situation.

Her shoulder length red hair was glossy and tussled, a far cry from the scrunched up, 'that'll do' approach he was already familiar with, and her jet black outfit hugged her lean mammalian curves. Curves it had been impossible to tell she possessed till that moment.

Garrus was certainly no connoisseur of human beauty – though he'd always considered Shepard easy on the eye for her species - but if he were to hazard a guess from the surrounding awed silence from her crew as she ventured into the CIC, she fit the part of 'live bait' perfectly. A fact that troubled him more than was reasonable.

"Commander, there's a new message for you," informed Yeoman Chambers helpfully.

"Thanks Kelly," Shepard replied, making her way toward her private terminal.

Garrus met her there, waiting quietly to convey his concerns about the mission when he realised Kelly was watching him. She smiled when he looked up, completely unabashed at having been caught staring at him. Her confidence threw him and he found himself smiling back. _Only to be polite,_ he told himself, she was always very personable – if a little strange. With a faint giggle she looked down at her terminal again.

_Spirits, what was that about?_ Garrus wondered then realised Shepard was looking up at him expectantly. Clearly having asked something he hadn't heard.

"Garrus?" she asked again, "You alright?" Not missing a trick she looked toward Kelly - who now appeared to be very busy - before looking up at him again her expression one of, 'what did I miss?'

For a moment he floundered, then shrugged, then changed tack all together. "So, I assume this is what you meant when you said it was time to paint on your war face?" he asked, taking in her general appearance with one sweeping gesture.

"Do I detect a note of disapproval?" Shepard asked, moving by him to check some survey data on a different screen.

"No, you detect several notes of concern," Garrus replied, following behind.

"Is that a joke?" she asked, seemingly amused whether it was a jokey reference to turian flang or not.

Garrus rolled his eyes, but before he could respond further a crewman appeared with a brusque, 'Commander?' drawing Shepard's attention as she was handed a data pad.

The young ensign stood rigidly straight, trying to keep his eyes focused on some indiscriminate point over Garrus's shoulder. At first Garrus thought he was to blame for his apparent discomfort till it turned out he was simply trying not to stare at his Commanding Officer. A battle he lost after no more than 15 seconds. Lucky for him, her attention remained diverted whilst he openly ogled.

On realising Garrus's scrutiny, however, the crewman snapped his attention to the wall, and didn't even look at Shepard when she handed back the data pad with an equally brusque, 'Carry on.'

With a shake of the head Garrus chuckled to himself; falling into step with Shepard as she continued through the CIC.

"Best not make this dress code _standard_, Shepard," he said, taking in the continued passing interest that she seemed to be blind to, or rather didn't choose to acknowledge. "I'm not sure any of the crew could concentrate well enough to function adequately."

"Don't make fun of me Garrus," she replied sternly.

"Who's making fun?" he asked, pausing briefly so she could walk up the steps to the bridge first.

"Looking good Commander," Joker praised with a grin, having spun round in his chair to greet them.

"And don't _you_ start either," Shepard reprimanded, pointing a finger at him threateningly before turning toward the airlock.

"_What did I say?_" Joker called after her, looking up at Garrus for an explanation.

Garrus lifted his palms in the universal - if dismissive - sign for 'don't ask me' and rounded the corner too.

"See what I mean?" he asked, stopping beside Shepard as she adjusted some settings on the airlock release.

She glanced up at him in response, her brows drawn together in a scowl at first, yet slowly, under his prolonged gaze - which she stubbornly refused to meet - her features smoothed into a small smile.

His mandibles flexed as he smiled in return, finding himself quite taken by her 'different' visage once again. Her scars were all but vanished behind whatever minimal make up she was wearing – not to mention her positive mental attitude stimulating her already astonishing ability to regenerate. Cerberus certainly hadn't skimped on the upgrades in that department. Something Garrus had already been very thankful for in the midst of their more bloody encounters.

"I don't like this, Shepard," he began earnestly. "You shouldn't be going in there alone."

"I'm not overly fond of the situation either," she replied, turning toward the exit.

Garrus reached out and caught hold of her elbow easing her back to face him. "Then why are you going?" he asked.

"Because I believe Samara when she says it's the only way." Her eyes met his briefly before training on his fingers still wrapped firmly round her arm. He let go instantly. "Keep an eye on things while I'm gone will you? Don't let Jack and Miranda kill each other."

"I'll sell tickets first," he pronounced.

Shepard laughed. "Well, make sure Joker gets a front row seat in that instance."

"Just watch your back," he added seriously.

"Count on it, till I've got you watching it again anyways. I'll be back soon," she promised and punched in the airlock release.

Air gusted through the rapidly opening door forcing them both to shield their eyes from the swirling dust blowing off Omega's docking port. Shepard marched out with all the same confidence she bore in full armour, but it was overshadowed by the normality of her appearance, and though Garrus knew first-hand to the contrary, he just couldn't get over how strangely vulnerable she looked in civvies.

Just before the airlock closed behind her, Shepard looked back, offering him an encouraging smile and a little wave that could only be described as cute.

The instant the airlock hammered shut he realised he'd waved back in a similar fashion.

_What the hell?_

Feeling ridiculous, he dropped his hand and turned to make his way back through the CIC only to notice Joker watching his retreat.

"What?" Garrus asked irritably.

"Nothing," Joker replied with a shrug. It was clearly something.

"You know, for a starship pilot you spend an awful lot of time not looking where you're going."

"And for a turian badass you spend an awful lot of time mooning after the Commander - Just putting it out there," Joker added, spinning his chair back round to face the helm.


	8. Here if you need me (Part 4)

Shakarian Compendium

Here if you need me (part 4)

"My… _what!?_" Shepard spluttered. She was sat with her arm stretched over Mordin's desk as he made a few intricate upgrade adjustments to her omni-tool.

"Have noticed on several occasions, certain signs that would indicate increased level of interest or attraction. Elevated heart rate, overactive sympathetic nervous system - a trait more noticeable in humans than other species. Increased level of pheromones, and greater need for interplay."

Shepard shook her head in disbelief, unable to grasp what she was hearing fully. "Let me get this straight. You think I'm attracted to Garrus?" She didn't sound half as sceptical as she would have liked.

"And possibly vice-versa too, though impossible to tell for sure," Mordin shrugged in answer not looking up from his work. "Turian's are harder to decipher, fewer 'obvious' physical responses."

"Quite," Shepard replied, reeling inwardly over the idea of 'possibly'. "Surely some of that could be put down to circumstance, Mordin," she argued. "I could have an increased heart rate for any number of reasons, like being worn out in the field for example. The fact that Garrus may or may not have been present is coincidence, nothing more. "

"I agree, but such reasoning doesn't explain why side effects occurred whilst drinking coffee in the mess hall this morning."

Shepard's eyes widened with horrified realisation. She swore under her breath, racking her brains over what she could remember of breakfast.

Garrus had met her in the mess hall as he did most mornings now out of habit. Mordin and Dr Chakwas had both been present too as Garrus was due to have his bandages changed and Chakwas had wanted a second opinion on his continued treatment.

They'd chatted as ever they did, about anything and everything, their discussion lapsing into light banter – as normal. Verbal sparring Shepard inevitably lost. She never minded though, being around Garrus was so easy. He made her laugh, _and_ forget… herself most of all.

Without that, _without him_, it would have been far too easy to become overwhelmed. Not by the mission, but by her inner demons, continuing to cultivate the fear and doubt that had plagued her since she'd woken on that lab table in a Cerberus research facility.

Shepard shook off the bad feelings, determined to divert her attention and regarded Mordin again. He'd stood up, deep in thought himself, though possibly striking a more generic pose than she.

"Hmm," he muttered, tapping his finger against his chin, "such couplings are rare but not unheard of. This presents quite a unique opportunity for study."

"Mordin I—"she began, hoping to stop the conversation before it became more awkward, but Mordin soldiered on completely oblivious to her discomfort.

"It's not so difficult to understand, human, turian, not so dissimilar when you get down to basic psychology. Admittedly invariable opposites on a cellular level, but culturally, emotionally - few differences."

"Mordin—"

"Certainly both species are prone to easing tension through physical means whether exercise or intercourse, though I should warn you of potential chaffing in that regard."

"Chaffing!?" Shepard exclaimed, whipping her hand over her mouth when she realised how loud she'd blurted it out.

"All side-effects and symptoms resulting from such are treatable. Might be worth cross checking for any allergic reaction before commencing on that front however. Will upload more information to your private terminal on the subject," he suggested helpfully.

Shepard blinked, totally stunned for a second before bursting with laughter and burying her face in her hands. Several minutes passed before she was actually able to look Mordin in the eye again and going by his expression when she did, she might have grown a second head – not that he wasn't evidently finding the whole thing fascinating to observe.

"I'm sorry," she said, letting her hands drop into her lap, "I think I actually died of embarrassment back there. Please, please tell me you haven't mentioned any of this to Garrus, even in passing?"

"Had no reason to," Mordin replied dismissively.

"Then please," Shepard begged, "for the love of God, _don't_. Even if you think you have a reason."

Mordin tipped his head inquisitively. "Am I wrong in my assessment?" he asked.

"I don't doubt the signs you've picked up on, I'm an absolute terror for an overactive…" she gestured airily trying to recall his turn of phrase, "sympa —"

"Overactive sympathetic nervous system," he reminded.

"Precisely," she said. "And amusing as I'm sure Garrus would find these suggestions, the circumstance, this mission, they hardly lend themselves to…" She lost her train of thought as she met Mordin's level stare. He couldn't have looked more unconvinced, plus he didn't blink nearly often enough. "I mean, it's not really appropriate to…" She sighed with frustration losing the thread again. "Just don't!" she ordered, finishing with a 'well-timed' blush.

* * *

Shepard stood still, her arms stretched out as the decontamination scan ran over her. A green light flashed to the right of the door as she was cleared to enter and with an automated hydraulic hiss the air lock opened.

On entering the Normandy SR2 she was greeted by the noise of the CIC. Most of the crew had remained aboard on this latest visit to the Citadel, believing only a brief excursion of their C.O and one of the 'aliens' to have been planned and necessary, which was true initially. She was about to issue an extension to that original mandate however.

"Commander," greeted Jacob as she made her way round to the right of the galaxy map.

"Mr Taylor," she acknowledged. "Rarely see you out of the Armoury."

He smiled. "Just had some information to discuss with Kelly, nothing important though," he assured catching Shepard's interested expression. "Mission successful?" he asked.

"As it could be under the circumstances," she replied, "though Thane is remaining on the station for the night. He needs the time with his son."

"Understood. Do you want me to inform the crew?"

Shepard rubbed at her temples feeling the beginnings of a headache. "You can do, yes. We certainly won't be leaving till 09:00 tomorrow. They might as well make the most of some shore leave while it's available."

Jacob nodded his understanding and gave her a quick salute before heading off to issue the order.

Finally escaping to her quarters, Shepard pulled off her armour and stacked it in a heap for cleaning, though she was quite unable to muster the will to attend to such a tedious task. It had been quite a taxing morning and really all she wanted right then was five minutes peace to collect her thoughts away from everything.

She poured herself a glass of water, took some medication for her threatening headache, fed her fish and generally pottered about the space till she eventually sat in front of her private terminal and began skimming through her mail.

She took another sip of water and without reference to the sender clicked on the most recent unread message titled 'as promised' – and promptly choked.

_Oh holy Jesus!_

Her eyes were saucer wide as she took in the sheer thoroughness Mordin had gone to over the subject of cross species relations between humans and turians. There was everything anyone might want to know - and a few things that they might not - information on the relevant tests, allergy treatments, _comfortable positions!?_

With her eyebrows screwed up in concentration Shepard cocked her head to the side in order to make out one of the 'instructional diagrams' easier. Suddenly, with no more warning than a single beep her door opened.

"Shepard?" Garrus called out, sounding surprised that the door had opened as fast as it had.

Several expletives ran through Shepard's mind as in her panic she completely forgot how to delete, minimise, or open another message, anything to get the damn information off her screen. In the end she swore under her breath and settled for spinning the whole terminal round so it wasn't visible to Garrus as he stepped in.

"Shepard?" he asked again.

"I'm here," she answered, flustered.

"You okay… that opened a bit quick." He gestured back to the door.

_You're telling me, _she thought, but feigned ignorance. "Did it? I wasn't really paying attention." _Also true._

"Do you have a minute to go through the Thanix upgrade report?" He waved a data pad at her as he asked. "I think you'll find the results encouraging."

She was just about to respond when another message flashed up. It was encoded, Alliance; instantly taking priority on the screen – not that she cared to hide anything after glancing over it.

Everything stopped - her heart and mind. She was struck dumb; completely lost in the dire connotations of a few simple words.

"_Did you hear anything I just said?" _Garrus asked.

She had, but couldn't respond. He sounded a million miles away.

"_Shepard?"_

He crouched down beside her and when she didn't respond further he reached out giving her arm a gentle shake.

Warmth radiated through her at his touch, armoured though it was, stirring something back to life within her. She found she could breathe again despite the continued tightness of her chest.

"Shepard what is it?" he asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Alchera," she answered faintly, her eyes still locked on the message. "They've found the Normandy crash site on Alchera."


	9. Normandy SR1

Shakarian Compendium

Normandy SR1

Shepard sat on the edge of her bed. Resting forward on her knees she stared down at the pack between her feet. Her heart twinged with guilt over how dismissive she'd been with Garrus, brushing aside his evident concern as if he made a fuss about nothing on her return from Alchera.

He knew her better than anyone though and had already witnessed too much. She couldn't let him understand the full extent of her suffering. Apart from the fact that it would be an unfair burden to share, she'd known this was always going to be something she had to conquer alone.

No one could know – not even Garrus, ever.

_This crew needs a leader,_ she scolded herself inwardly, _not some emotional wreck haunted by her past._

Determinedly she ripped open the bag and lifted out the broken remnants of a black and white grey helmet she'd found on the surface; cursing her trembling fingers for being the only give away of the horror she felt at holding the decayed thing in her hands. Her grip slowly tightened as her eyes welled with traitor tears.

It was_ her _helmet, the one she'd… _died_ wearing.

She ground her teeth fighting back the emotional onslaught, turning her face away from the sight like a coward, her mind screaming, _'Why? Why pick the damn thing up in the first place?'_

She wished she had an answer, one better than morbid curiosity, but she'd been in a near delirious state by the time she'd stumbled upon it, gathering dog tags like memories of the dead, how was this any different?

Surrounded by the skeletal remains of the starship she had once called home, her mind had been overrun with images of the Normandy's final moments. They'd tore at her constantly, to a point where she could smell the burning, feel the heat of the flames; hear the screams of the dying crew she'd failed to save.

Her eyes closed and the first tears escaped.

She let the helmet fall and lay back, crushing the heel of her hands against her eyes, struggling for control as the onset of panic gripped her again. She drew a long deliberate breath, looked out of the skylight over head to the blanket of night and stars and was instantly sucked into the final memory she'd desperately been fighting against.

* * *

_["Mayday, mayday, mayday, (static) … is the SSV Normandy; we're under attack, repeat, we are under attack. We've suffered heavy damage from an unknown enemy. (static) Vess—unknown-not (static) came out of nowhere." (static)]_

_Garrus stared at Anderson's omni-tool listening to Joker's broken, disembodied voice crackle and fade to nothing. Though he knew he was dreaming he couldn't help but re-feel all the disbelief he remembered experiencing first time round. Unable to comprehend what he was listening to, he waited –_again_- in denial for the punch line of this seriously bad joke. _

The Normandy… gone? It can't be true, it's not possible.

_"All hands were ordered to abandon ship," Anderson explained, his dark brows furrowed with undeniable pain. "Twenty one crew members still remain unaccounted for, Shepard included. From the reports coming in it's believed she was still on board when the Normandy was destroyed."_

Shepard!?

_The weight of guilt and anger Garrus felt surge through him at that moment would have driven him to his knees had he not been sitting already. Resting his face in his hands he leaned forward, trying to hold together his fractured state of mind. He was going into shock, he knew_,_ until finally some deep rooted training broke through in time to spare him falling to pieces. _

_"Any idea who attacked them?" he asked, his flanged voice cracking under the strain of his emotions._

_"The reports are too vague, it all happened too fast. The belief is it was slavers."_

_"There's no way a fleet of slavers could have taken out the Normandy," Garrus stated, slicing the air with his hand definitively. "Her cannons could cut through any known shield configuration, she was stealthy and she was fast." _

_He looked up at Anderson expecting a contradiction, but the Councillor didn't reply, his expression remaining desolate as he turned away and walked out onto the office balcony overlooking the Presidium. _

_It was a long time before Garrus found the strength to follow him…._

["Garrus?"]

"Hmm?" Garrus mumbled in response, stirring on the edge of consciousness.

["Garrus, do you copy?"]

A split second later and Garrus's eyes snapped open. Yanked back to the reality of the here and now he flung the blankets aside and reached out for the com line controls.

["Come on big guy pick up the damn com."]

"What is it Joker?" he asked groggily.

["We've got a situation and you're the nearest to be able to do anything about it. Seems Jack and Miranda are about to kill each other and I can't reach the Commander to respond."]

"Come again?"

["Jack and Miranda are—"]

"Yeah, I heard that bit, what do you mean you can't reach Shepard, where is she?" Garrus asked with a growl, clambering out of bed and began dragging on his undersuit.

["I don't know, EDI can't locate her and I can't raise her over the com system."]

"This ship's not that big Joker," Garrus replied. "Are you telling me she's not on board? Don't you think that's more pressing than Miranda and Jack bitching at one another?"

["Hey, I'm not the one who's going to get spaced if they manage to blow a hole in the hull from Miranda's office, Garrus! Besides, Shepard's not missing."]

["Mr Moreau is correct,"] EDI interjected. ["The reason behind my inability to locate the Commander is most likely due to a technical malfunction of her ear piece, nothing more."]

_Like hell it is_, Garrus thought, irritated by their apparent short sightedness. Couldn't they see how wrong the situation was? Shepard was normally at the very heart of ship wide affairs, no system escaping her notice. She knew every name of every person on board _for Spirits sake_, their position; personal details, enough that she could stand and hold a decent conversation with anyone. She took her duties too seriously and was technically minded enough not to allow her ear piece to 'malfunction', even if she had to query its repair with him first.

That only left one option, she'd deliberately cut herself off. Something Garrus would have claimed unthinkable yesterday, but now, since Alchera? The thought twisted in his gut painfully as he considered the cold manner with which she had rejected his concern for her – and without doubt he knew he was right.

Locking his visor into place he palmed the door release and strode out onto the crew deck with a purpose.

On rounding the corner to Miranda's office he paused wondering what to do for the best, firstly looking toward the lift almost certain of where he'd find Shepard, and then back toward Miranda's office. He could hear the shouting already as could everyone else still up in the mess hall, throwing furtive glances at one another but not daring to go and investigate. He took a minute to decide if he really had the patience to deal with the situation whilst Shepard was missing. Knowing if the positions were reversed that Shepard would make good before leaving he heaved a sigh and made for the office door.

* * *

Shepard's heart pounded.

Her stamina knew no end, infinitely fuelled by the fear she could no longer contain.

She was running.

Sweat ran down her skin from the monumental effort and the concentration she applied to her biotic exercises alongside everything else. Her fists slowly clenched tighter and tighter as she ran the circuit of the bay again and again, harnessing the energy only to release it in short explosive bursts.

She was broken.

She'd known this before going down to walk amongst the Normandy's wreckage, she just hadn't realised how badly broken that was till now.

_'"You were just meat and tubes. Anyone else would have put you in a coffin."'_

She'd been in too much of a state of shock and disbelief to have registered the full impact of Jacob's words at the time, but it was something she had to face. She'd been more than just broken hadn't she? She'd been dead - _deader than dead_.

Shepard let her biotics fly again, the explosion bigger this time.

_'"Joker the Normandy's lost. Going down with the ship isn't going to change that."'_

Her pace slowed as she remembered stretching desperately for the manual escape pod release.

Remembered… the heat of the explosion sear through her spacesuit as it tore the Normandy apart.

The back breaking impact of her spine against the shattered hull.

Watching the burning pieces of the Normandy caught in the near planet's gravity fall past her.

Hearing the rush of escaping air as she realised the seals on her suit were shot.

The panic as she fought to grasp the puncture. Fought for every gasping breath though the cold nothingness of the void ripped through her screaming lungs and her vision reddened with rupturing cells.

"_Shepard!?_"

She looked up, startled – not only to find Garrus stood feet away, but herself stood over a shattered control terminal her fist bloodied with broken metal and glass. Her lips trembled as she looked to Garrus again trying to hold her fractured mental state together in front of him, but the tears she hadn't realised she was shedding continued to roll silently down her face, unchecked. She stood rigidly straight, watching him as he edged closer.

"Shepard?" he asked again, his multi tones riddled with worry as he lifted a hand out toward her.

The offer of comfort was too tempting to refuse and though her feet weighed like lead she managed to find the strength of will to take the two steps necessary to get to him and grasp the front of his suit like her life depended on it. She rested her forehead to his chest, silent sobs racking her frame till his arms, tentative at first, slowly wrapped around her drawing her close.


	10. Confessions

Shakarian Compendium

Confessions

"Liara!" cried Shepard, successfully pushing her out of the path of the rampaging yahg. She was in close now, ducking and weaving the Shadow Broker's massive swings, hammering at his limitless defences with her shotgun and biotics. Her own shields were practically none existent, the red warning flashes glinting incessantly on the inside screen of her visor.

Continuous shots bounced off his shield ineffectively as Liara continued to pepper him with bullets.

Out of ammo Shepard's shotgun misfired leaving her open to the Shadow Broker's assault as he brought his Revenant to bear. Before he had a chance to open fire she quickly tossed her shotgun over catching the barrel in a firm grip and cracked the butt of it across the side of his face - a vain attempt to have chance to draw her pistol, but a single brutal swipe in retaliation knocked her hand cannon from her grasp.

Ripping pain tore through her wrist with the impact and for a split second Shepard could only watch as her last remaining weapon skittered far out of reach. In sheer desperation she brought her arms up in defence to meet the Broker's next attack, the bone shattering force of his strike nearly driving her to her knees in front of him. Every fibre of her being trembled with overexertion yet she somehow held her ground, pushing back for all she was worth.

"My deal with the Collectors for your body is still open," he promised, towering over her with a threatening growl; adding more force as he attempted to crush Shepard where she stood.

Suddenly two more shots fired, but this time the Broker reared up in agony clasping at the exposed flesh of his neck. With his weight gone Shepard couldn't help but collapse, her head spinning as she tried desperately to see how Liara had been able to reposition so quickly.

It wasn't Liara.

_Garrus,_ she realised, filled with relief and awe at the unexpected sight of him standing straight and determined as he brandished her lost pistol - though his other arm clutched at his bloodied midriff. Miraculously he'd re-emerged from beneath the rubble that had buried him and now mercilessly fired two more rounds into the back of the Broker's armoured skull watching as the huge yahg teetered and thrashed in pain.

Shepard took her chance. Struggling to her feet, face grim, she launched herself at the Broker's middle forcing him back the last few paces necessary to position him beneath the energy core in the ceiling above as Liara had strategised.

"Now Liara!" she shouted, throwing herself clear as the space was consumed in an explosive biotic storm reducing the Shadow Broker at the epicentre to a pile of smouldering ash.

* * *

"Shepard," exclaimed Chakwas as the door to the med-bay opened and the two of them nearly walked into each other. "I was just on my way to check on Ensign Greerson. How's the wrist?"

"It's alright," she replied, automatically lifting it and flexing her fingers to prove the point.

Chakwas gave it quick inspection anyway, murmuring thoughtfully to herself for a moment before adding aloud, "Hmm, whatever else might be said of Cerberus, their implant technologies are impressive."

Shepard pulled her arm away, the subject a little too close to sore nerves at present for her to indulge the doctor's enthusiasm. "How is he?" she asked, drawing Chakwas's attention to where Garrus lay asleep - and her reason for coming.

"He'll be fine," Chakwas assured. "One of the broken ribs had partially punctured his left inferior lobe, but it wasn't much to repair. I just didn't trust him not to go crawling around under the forward batteries ten minutes after surgery so I took the precaution of sedating him. He'll be out for the next six hours or so."

"Sound discretion Karin," admitted Shepard, offering her a small smile. Knowing Garrus, calibrations would have been the first thing on his 'personal' recovery list.

"Did you need me for anything before I go?" Chakwas asked.

"No, I'm fine. I was just going to…" Shepard gestured to Garrus and began dragging up a stool to sit beside him. Understanding her intentions Chakwas offered her a quick sympathetic smile and took her leave.

To be left alone with her thoughts still made Shepard uneasy. As a result she knew that being here was as much for her own sake as Garrus's, but if anyone would understand her selfishness it would be him. She really had nothing left to hide from him anymore - _well, almost nothing_ - and the realisation had been quite liberating. He'd seen her at her absolute worst after Alchera, destroying any pre-conceived idea he'd formed of her being somehow unshakeable, and yet, somehow, their friendship appeared stronger than ever.

* * *

_"How is this normal?" Shepard asked, pulling her injured hand away. She and Garrus were sat on the shuttle bay floor their backs to a mound of storage crates whilst Garrus carefully assessed the damage Shepard's fight with a control terminal had done. He'd already removed several pieces of glass, commenting more than once that they should go up to the med-bay and let Chakwas look it over, but Shepard had refused. Already the bloody gashes were healing. _

_"I've seen krogans regen faster," Garrus replied truthfully._

_Shepard sighed, frustrated. "Yes, but I'm not krogan am I. I'm not sure I know what I am anymore." She clenched her fists and looked away. "I was dead wasn't I? How can I be who I was before?"_

_"Shepard…"_

_She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the crate behind. "I was never really religious," she admitted at length. "I've seen too much to be totally enamoured by the idea of an afterlife, but it was always comforting to hope. There wasn't anything though, not a god damn thing. Not till I woke up on that lab table with Miranda's face hovering over me telling me to calm down." _

_"Did you ever think that perhaps it just wasn't your time?" Garrus asked, drawing her attention back to him. She half smiled, it was a nice sentiment. "If there was anyone with the will to hold on it'd be you," he added._

_"Beyond death?" she asked in disbelief._

_Unmoved by Shepard's scepticism, it was Garrus's turn to look thoughtful. "The day you saved me on Omega, I knew it was you, you know. Do you know how? Your armour was plain black after all. No identification marks."_

_"Probably some Cerberus experimental model," Shepard recalled._

_Garrus nodded in agreement. "I had you in my sights when you unknowingly looked straight at me, unafraid, and it was your eyes I recognised," he said, looking at her with sudden intensity. "They burn with a determination and wealth of experience beyond your years."_

_Stunned by his sincerity, Shepard found she was lost for words only able to stare back._

_"No Cerberus 'project' could emulate that look, Shepard," he added seriously. "Regardless of how tough your new shell is, that's you in there." _

_Shepard hadn't realised she was crying again till Garrus reached out, his long taloned fingers hovering millimetres from touching her cheek before he settled whatever internal debate he was having and wiped a stray tear away…._

* * *

Sudden raised voices drew her attention as the first of the dinner schedule arrived in the mess hall. A few jibes were being exchanged with Mess Sergeant Gardener same as always. She wasn't worried, he was more than capable of giving as good as he ever got. Tuning the noise out Shepard turned back to Garrus. Leaning forward she rested her hand over his, lightly interlacing their fingers, savouring the warmth radiating from his fascinating skin.

* * *

_…. "Is it to give Garrus peace of mind? Something has changed between you two."_

_It took a moment for Shepard to respond, the question coming as somewhat of a surprise whilst Liara seemed absorbed in the numerous data screens and other technological processes of her new found 'power'. "Is that really surprising?" she asked in response. "Two years makes quite a difference, just look at you."_

_"That's not what I meant and you're forgetting just how much I already knew," Liara replied, offering Shepard a brief glance. "You always cared about each other that was plain to see, though if I remember right it took Garrus a little longer to relax with the idea of having a 'friendship' with his C.O." She smiled lightly at the memory, triggering a similar response from Shepard as she remembered that time too, a strange sense of loss filling her heart. _

_It seemed more than a little odd to recall those days nostalgically, they'd been some of the most arduous weeks of her life, but what wouldn't she give to have some of that time back. To have survived to see Garrus again and buy him those countless drinks she'd admitted to owing the last time they'd parted ways. _

_"In the end I think you were closer to Garrus than anyone during those months we pursued Saren," Liara continued, "a fact that was only compounded further by how much you couldn't see him after the attack on the Citadel." _

_It was uncanny how much Liara had picked up on considering Shepard knew she hadn't personally confided any information to anyone. Close to the mark too given her previous train of thought and it managed to catch her out again, heat rising to her cheeks as if her thoughts had been on more than just drinks with her friend. At that point she remembered the 'informative' mail from Mordin still sat in her private terminal inbox. If it hadn't been relevant she'd have deleted it by now, wouldn't she?_

_"That blush confirms something too." Liara remarked, giving Shepard her full attention. "But what about Kaidan?" she asked curiously._

_"What about Kaidan?"_

_"You know I was never convinced that there wasn't something between you."_

_"Neither was he that was the problem." Shepard explained, turning to sit on the edge of the control panel behind her. "We were friends, good friends. I hope that when all this craziness is done with that something of that can be salvaged, but we've never been anything more." She folded her arms across her chest, her stance as resolute as her summary answer. "He's a good man. We had a connection; it just meant something different to him."_

_Liara went back to looking over the data screens as she considered this apparently new piece of information. "But Garrus?" she asked after a moment. When Shepard didn't respond Liara stopped what she was doing and looked up again. _

_Shepard refused to meet her gaze, thinking over how it would feel to just come out and admit what she felt, not only now, but ever since those few short weeks on the Citadel after the Geth attack, after Sovereign's destruction, when all that time apart from him had made her realise… "It's always been Garrus, Liara."_

_"Does he know?"_

Why wouldn't he, everyone else seems to,_ thought Shepard in a sudden panic. "I… don't think so."_

_"Why not? You wouldn't be the first to find comfort in the arms of a turian, Shepard."_

_"Honestly, I think it would be too strange for him; maybe even for me," she sighed._

_Liara shook her head, clearly irritated by such a response. "I think you're both more open minded than you give yourselves credit for. I've watched you together and the relationship I see is not one of a C.O and her subordinate, alien 'friend'. You're equal partners in this endeavour. Garrus has 'grown up' if you will; become a skilled leader and the authority and confidence of that no longer diminishes with your presence."_

* * *

Shepard looked up checking Garrus's monitors before resting her gaze on his sculpted turian face. Perhaps Liara was right, where was the problem? And perhaps the idea of forming an attachment given the circumstances was as inherently mad as Shepard believed, but one thing remained certain regardless.

"I honestly don't know what I'd do without you," she confessed quietly.

Almost instantaneously Garrus's fingers gently squeezed her hand.


	11. Heat

Shakarian Compendium

Heat

Three hours.

_Three hours? Was that really how long they had left?_

Garrus looked at the data pad in his hand, scanning the results of his last system check after the Collector's assault on the Normandy. The figures were at least positive - _about the only thing that was_ – it would have to do, he was out of time. Further improvements would take too long and he wasn't entirely sure he could concentrate well enough to fathom his way round intricate calibrations. The firepower they had now would either suffice, or they wouldn't be alive long enough after the Omega 4 relay jump to worry about it. He tossed the data pad aside with a frustrated sigh, flexing his fingers.

The main battery had been his sanctuary since coming aboard, but the familiarity of it offered little comfort as he paced the deck. He felt lost and very much alone, his last text exchange with his sister preying on his mind; fuelling his need to get this damnable mission done with.

_The 'wait' is always the worst part,_ he noted, rubbing at the tension knotted in his neck. Right then anything to relieve his pent up energy would've been welcome. The random thought led todistant memories of sparring and 'private tiebreakers', and succeeded in making him smile faintly, but the best he could hope for under the circumstances would be not to spend these last few hours alone. Resigning himself to the fact, Garrus realised that company – _his friend's company_ - was the only thing he wanted.

"EDI?" he asked, tapping the com line open on the main battery's A.I station.

["Yes Garrus?"]

"What's the current location of Commander Shepard?"

["Commander Shepard is in her quarters."]

Garrus thought on this for a moment, fingering an ammo clip on his work bench. "Is she alone?" He winced inwardly, the question felt so awkward, but the last thing he wanted to do was intrude on her private time, especially if she happened to be sharing it with someone. Obvious as her admirers were to him though, he had wondered if Shepard knew given how indifferent she'd remained to any professed interest.

["I'm afraid I can't answer that,] EDI replied, ["to do so would violate my privacy protocols."]

Garrus rolled his eyes. Feeling mildly exasperated, he rephrased the question. "Are the remaining Normandy crew accounted for at their stations?"

["Yes,"] was EDI's instant response.

"That's all I needed to know," he said, turning for the door.

["Logging you out, Garrus."]

* * *

The blistering heat of the shower felt glorious. It penetrated Shepard's being helping to calm her troubled mind and soul. She swiftly lost track of how long she was stood there, enjoying the guilty pleasure knowing how easily it could be her last, though the turmoil of real life could not be kept at bay indefinitely. It crept into her steamy haven stabbing at her heart and pulled her back from the edge of contentment.

Music was the first thing she realised on turning off the taps. A pounding dance beat stemming from the sound system in her room. It wouldn't have been an issue, but for the fact that she couldn't recall switching it on. She towelled down, pulled on her vest and combats and went to investigate.

To her surprise she found Garrus sat on the top step of the short flight into her living quarters. His back was to her and the tension in him was palpable.

"Should I even ask?" she said, drawing his attention, looking between him and what should have been her locked door.

"Probably not," he replied, easily.

If she were to consider the list of those left on board capable of bypassing such security it was a wonder she bothered locking it at all.

"Fair enough," she shrugged, leaning over him to turn the music down. "You alright? I assume there must be a reason for breaking into my quarters?"

Garrus lifted up a slender bottle of wine in answer and patted the empty space on the step next to him.

Shepard took the proffered seat, smiling to see he'd raided her cupboards for glasses too. "How long have you been sat here?" she asked.

"A while," he confessed, giving her a quick once over. "I'd expected you to be somewhat more 'prune-ish' by now." He poured her a drink as he spoke and handed it to her. "It's the best I could buy…" he assured, "on a vigilante's salary anyway."

"What's the occasion?"

"Would it be too morbid of me to say 'we might be dead tomorrow'?" Garrus let the question hang as he poured himself a glass, his sarcasm adding humour to the undeniable truth.

"Possibly," Shepard laughed, swirling her wine thoughtfully. "How about, 'to a few moments we can call our own,' instead?"

Garrus nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "Hmm, I like it. It's certainly less morose than my suggestion."

They sat in companionable silence for a time, drinking their drinks and listening to the hum of the engine interspersed with occasional drum beats or a flurry of bubbles from the fish tank. Unusual as Shepard found the situation, she let it go, concerned that questioning Garrus over it might give him reason to leave and she was too grateful for the distraction of his company.

"So, what with the wine, and the breaking and entering," she joked, aspiring to keep the mood light.

"More _bypassing_ and entering," he cut in.

"Can I assume preparations for suicidal battle differ somewhat on a turian ship?"

"You could assume that," Garrus chuckled dryly, "though none of that 'short list' would be tolerated."

"No humour, huh?" Shepard asked, already knowing the answer.

"Rarely. That monumental stick up the ass isn't purely a point of fun you know. For most turians it's genetic."

"That's not true of you," she said, turning to rest her back against the wall and stretch her legs out across the top step, crossing her ankles.

"You mean stubborn hot-head tendencies aside," he corrected.

"Oh, I didn't say anything about you not being a stubborn ass, Garrus. You are, _frequently_." She couldn't contain her grin as he arched a brow plate at her. She attempted to hide her mirth behind the rim of her glass with limited success.

"Good to know," he said, turning away.

The lack of any further witty response had Shepard instantly worried. "Garrus?"

He looked up. "I'm alright," he assured, reading her concerned expression.

She didn't believe him. "Is it the mission?" she asked.

"Not really. We've certainly faced impossible odds before. It's just the waiting I find difficult. Waiting alone, even more so."

"That why you came?"

Garrus sighed. "Truth is, Shepard, if these are to be our last hours, well, I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather spend them with. You're the only friend I have left."

Shepard didn't know what to say to that at first, the sad honour cutting deep. "What about your family?" she asked, knowing that Garrus still had a life on Palaven to return to. "Were you able to contact them?"

"My sister… briefly. Sol believes I'm still playing at Spectre; screwing around as I have been for the past couple of years in her view. I haven't felt able to set up a video link since this happened," Garrus gestured to the scarred side of his face. "She doesn't need to be worried about me she's got enough on her plate with Mom's illness."

"Your Dad?"

Something about the question forced Garrus to stand, like the burden evoked was easier to bear on his feet. With a long sigh he finished his drink and set the glass down on the near table. He rolled his shoulders and neck before pacing over to rest a hand to the wall. It was clear he had no interest in the array of exotic fish Shepard had acquired on their travels, but he watched them anyway, his mind far away as he stared into the tank.

"He knows everything he needs to know," he replied after a moment. "He knows I'm with you, though that's not necessarily a comfort to him - no offence."

"None taken." Shepard knew exactly what Garrus's father's opinions were on Spectres – not to mention that every mission Garrus joined her on inevitably ended up with them facing unspeakable horrors and 'impossible odds'. It wouldn't be much comfort to her either.

"They just want me home," he added thoughtfully.

"Understandable. Especially with your Mom poorly, Corpalis Syndrome wasn't it?"

"Yeah," he answered, the flang of his voice cracking faintly.

Shepard didn't press him further, allowing him time to decide whether he was going to confide more or not. He didn't, though his head tipped forward, eyes closing in anguish, his tough turian façade slipping under the lingering burden of family worries he could no longer influence.

She could never tell him she knew everything already; that the Shadow Broker's files had revealed far more than she'd ever had a right to know. His sister's misbeliefs, his dismissal from C-Seq, the anonymous funding he'd poured into the salarian scientists hopeful of a new treatment for his mother's condition. He'd done so much, everything he could in fact, despite being dragged into the madness of her existence yet again.

Shepard set down her drink and stood up beside him. "Your sister sounds as stubborn as you," she commented, offering a cheeky yet empathetic smile as he glanced down at her.

His mandibles flickered with amusement. "She's far more stubborn than me, but I've learned, the hard way at times, that's a general trait in females… _of any species_."

"True enough," she replied, resting her hand on his arm in comfort and squeezing gently.

He looked down, registering the contact. "I've seen so many things go wrong, Shepard," he muttered, not taking his eyes away from where she touched him, "so much of it was my fault…"

Shepard couldn't say what drove her to reach out and caress the side of his face, drawing his eyes to hers - she'd be damned if she was going to let him believe the worst of himself, not after everything they'd been through - but it was blind instinct that had her stand on tip toe to place a chaste kiss to his scarred mandible.

"How can such a good man despise himself so much?" she asked, pulling back far enough to see his subtly stunned expression. "I'm so sorry for needing you so badly," she apologised, her eyes welling with tears, "but I promise you, the first thing we'll do when we come back through the relay is take you home to Palaven so you can make everything right by your family."

She let her hand fall from his face as she started to pull away, but Garrus stopped her, unexpectedly catching hold of it again.

"Shepard?" he asked, his voice sounding a little weak.

Something shifted between them as she met the intensity of his bright blue eyes, unable to breathe as the understanding of what that shift was gripped her heart painfully. She'd been such a fool to ignore these feelings she had for him, and now, with no control they unravelled before her, leaving her mind strangely blank.

"Shepard?" he asked again, continuing to hold her gaze.

She couldn't speak as he leant toward her, her heart stumbling over beats as she felt the pressure of his other hand on her shoulder. A sweet nervous gesture; one he wasn't sure he was allowed to offer. Then the world fell away as he rested his forehead to hers leaving behind only the most wonderful feeling of closeness she'd ever experienced. She closed her eyes and drew breath.

"_This_ wasn't why I came," Garrus said, slowly lifting her hand to the side of his face again and leaning into her touch.

"I know," she muttered, raising her chin to bring her lips tantalisingly close to his.

"Though it's starting to seem like a reason to stay," he added. "Granted, it's more than a little crazy, but a reason."

The subtle hint of a smile in his tone, made her laugh, then she shivered, losing herself in the feel of his hand caressing down the length of her arm from her shoulder. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Garrus," she whispered.

"That's never something you have to worry about, Shepard - not that I have an underlying fetish for humans you understand, but… if I were to be with anyone it would be you."

She pulled back so she could look into his face again, registering an unmistakable sense of loss at the sudden space between them. He was serious, more serious than she'd ever known him to be before.

Emboldened by this Shepard lifted her other hand and allowed her fingertips to trace over his painted face, marvelling at the differing textures from the smooth metal-like carapaces, to the scales of his neck, to the imperfections of his scars. He was totally alien in every physical sense of the word, but no more than she was to him.

"How does that feel?" she asked gently.

"Hot. Your hands are so warm," he murmured, his eyes closed clearly savouring her efforts.

"I forget how much turians respond to heat," Shepard smiled.

"I don't know how," Garrus replied, sceptically, "the cold is _never_ something I bitch about."

She laughed again. "True, I endured 'not' a lot of that on Noveria."

"If I recall, there was a blizzard," he remarked, resting his head to hers again. Both hands slid down her sides as he spoke resting at the curve of her waist, easing her closer to him.

"If I recall," she retorted a little breathlessly, "I bought you thermal armour."

"You did, didn't you?" Garrus laughed, "I remember. Are you always this warm, I knew humans were pretty good at regulating body heat, but this?"

"Not always, though right now I have other reasons for being warmer than usual," she confessed with a blush.

His mandibles twitched as he grinned, "Such as?" he asked innocently.

"Oh I guess the shower, the alcohol; _you_."

"This _is_ crazy," Garrus muttered, suddenly serious, "you feel so fragile."

"I am, though only rudimentarily speaking. There is a difference between fragile and soft. You might have to be careful."

"If I'd known, I could have done some research."

"Watched some vids?" It was Shepard's turn to grin; sure she would have made him blush with the implied connotations if it were possible.

"Now you're just making it sound bad," he replied lightly.

"Some first times are worth just experiencing I think," she said, drawing his face closer.

"And the Collectors will provide a wonderful distraction if this turns into, well… a cross species mess."

"I don't anticipate that," she muttered and pressed her lips to his.

The plates of his mouth were certainly the most supple, giving marginally under the pressure of her kiss, but it was his simultaneous passionate response that really awakened her senses. A soft groan emanated from deep in his chest as his hands moulded her against him, one firmly trailing the length of her spine to settle at the nape of her neck.

"I don't know how to be with you, Shepard," he whispered against her lips, "I just know I want to be."

"That's enough," she whispered back and he kissed her again, the force of it pressing her into the wall with a soft thud.


End file.
